


If Not For You

by all_the_kings_ham



Series: If not for you [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Balthifer, Boys Kissing, Domestic nonsense, Fluff, M/M, Nick's POV, Protective Older Brothers, The Family Business, boys kissing in a bakery, how is there an official tag for that?, is that how you'd say it?, is this a common AU, just writing stupid stories about stupid boys touching each other's butts, lucifer isn't lucifer, mentions of balthifer?, what am I even doing with my life at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2018-11-29 16:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 77,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11444247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_the_kings_ham/pseuds/all_the_kings_ham
Summary: A man walks into a bakery...





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another story?  
> Why?  
> I ask myself that question often.  
> But I'm having a rough time out here, and writing stupid things is my excape tactic. So, last night I realized that I'd written over 60 pages in this random, stupid story that wasn't even supposed to exist, and I thought 'hey, I'll just post it when it's finished'
> 
> you know what though? Writting makes me feel a bit better. So does talking to you guys.  
> So hey, here is something stupid and kind of goofy and I hope that if any of you out there are going through a rough spot and need a bit of cheering up, that this story can help out.

The first time that Nick met him was not even remotely formal. The other man was nothing other than a big inconvenience to him- in that he was incredibly big, and to a lesser extent, an inconvenience. And Nick tried not to be too judgy, but really, when someone has to duck their heads so they can fit through a standard size doorway, that sort of thing leaves an impression.

 

“Do you guys have any pie left?”

 

_Really?_

 

Nick glanced at the pastry case, and its very sparse, but very obvious contents. “Yes… but we’re closing for the night, so you’d best know exactly what you want so you can get it and get out.” And some people might think that it’s a bit odd to close up shop at only five in the afternoon, but they also opened at seven in the morning, and sold most everything by a little after lunch. Nick wasn’t a big fan of wasting time hanging around an empty counter, telling people that they could come back in the morning if they wanted something. That’s what the sign on the door was for.

 

“I’ll be really quick. I promise.” The human incarnation of a daddy long legged spider came closer. He was probably mid twenties, with a mess of hair that, much like the suit and tie he was wearing, had probably looked quite presentable at some point in the day- but had fallen to disarray. Might have had something to do with the wind storm outside. “I just need apple pie,”

 

Resisting the urge to reach across the counter and fix the man’s tie, Nick folded his arms over the top of the case. “A piece, or a whole pie?”

 

“Whole?” He sounded so very hopeful, big brownish eyes of his going a little too soft and pleading. “My brother’s in town for his birthday.”

 

Birthday pie was a respectable choice. And having brothers of his own, Nick knew a good cause when he heard it, so he popped open the refrigerated case and pulled out the singular apple pie that remained. Lovely little thing with a decorative lattice crust that was cooked to a perfect golden brown. “I’m going to warn you, we’re sort of famous for our pies here and we’ve only got this one left at all because it’s… a bit spicier than your regular apple pie. Not for the faint of heart.”

 

The moose of a man blinked, running a hand through his nearly shoulder length hair. “ _Spicier_?” Like he’d never heard the word before.

 

“New recipe.” Nick shrugged, because who was he to question his brother’s baking mojo? There was always a new, more delicious recipe on the horizon, and there was always a new reason for their customers to come back.   “It’s got a bit of cayenne pepper in with the cinnamon. Warm it up a bit in the oven on low heat, then some vanilla ice cream on top- it’s a religious experience.”

 

The man laughed softly, “that’s an awful big promise for a pie.”

 

Nick was already getting a small box from under the counter. Setting the pie carefully inside and folding the lid down. “Pie like this makes grown men weep. Babies smile. Flowers bloom. Turns little wooden puppets into real boys.” Nick ran out of promises. “Twenty bucks.”

 

“For a pie?”

 

“It’s usually seventeen plus tax, but I should have locked up five minutes ago. So we’ll call it an even twenty. For your brother’s last minute birthday pie- which will be slightly life changing. And depending on your brother, that might be a good thing. So it’s sort of a deal if you really think about it.” Nick said it all with a well oiled grin.

 

Luckily, the man smiled back, getting out his wallet- and that was a good thing, because if the man had gotten annoyed then Nick would have had to face his younger brother’s anger at overcharging people for last minute desserts again.

 

Cash was traded for the pale blue box and the giant of a man saw himself out with an appreciative grin and a wave.  Nick pocketed the extra money and grabbed out the shop keys, coming around the counter and turning off the ‘open’ sign in the window.

 

“I’m locking up!” He called towards the back of the shop, hearing the affirmative grunt from his brother who was probably elbow deep in dough and covered in flour. It meant that Nick would be cleaning up on his own again today. Which was alright. He’d gotten very good over the years at cleaning up on his own.

 

.:.

 

The second time that the giant man came to the shop he was right on schedule to catch Nick while he was switching off the sign in the window, not quite to the door yet.

 

“Are you guys still open?” And by the way he asked, it was obvious that he knew that they weren’t, even as he sort of hugged the opened door to the curve of his shoulder, half in the building.

 

Amused to see the man again so soon after the first visit, but still a bit annoyed at the too late timing- Nick tilted the sign away from the window so that he could see the darkened letters. “Mmm, doesn’t look like it.”

 

And the puppy eyes had to be a conscious choice on the man’s part, littlest pout and eyebrows arching up into his dark hair. “Do you happen to maybe have a pie or two I can talk you out of… after hours?”

 

“After hours?” Nick sighed a long suffering sigh as he thought it over. “I’ll have to warn you though, the longer we’re closed, the more expensive everything gets. Including myself.”

 

“I brought an extra twenty with me, just in case.” This man, who had an almost concerning _need_ for pie in his life, said with a grin.

 

“Well, then. Get in and close the door. It’s cold as hell out there.”

 

He did, and Nick locked up so that no one else could wander themselves in from the storm.  One unwanted customer was already one too many.

 

Standing beside the giant without the safety of the counter between them like last time, Nick had to quickly come to terms with a few things. The different color than last time, but still crooked tie was the least of his concerns. With very little effort, this man would have been able to tuck Nick’s head beneath his chin. Then there was a jaw line that was stronger than the store’s wifi connection, and unfortunately there was a shadow of dimples to go with an open, lovely, grateful sort of smile.

 

A little faster than necessary, Nick retreated back to the safety of the correct side of the counter. “I’ve only got slices left. Lemon meringue, blackberry, strawberry, chocolate.”

 

“No apple?” He leaned a hip against the counter like it was the most natural thing in the world, just so easy and friendly. “He really, really loved the one I brought home for him. You were right about the ice cream on it.”

 

He almost felt bad to say it, but… “we’ve only got what you see.” Nick rolled up his sleeves, and mostly it was not an intimidation tactic. It just so happened that he knew that men in business suits tended to be a bit uneasy around tattoos, and he wanted to get a bit more of that ‘in control of this situation’ feeling than just the counter was able to provide. “We’ll have more apple pie tomorrow if you want to come back?”

 

“My brother’s leaving first thing in the morning, I don’t think that we’d have time to swing by.”

 

Which was a sad story that Nick found that he really couldn’t give a good god damn about. But oh, Nick was weak for pretty men in suits. He just wanted to take them by the tie and…

 

And not follow that train of thought because it wasn’t going to take him anywhere productive. He sighed again. It gave him time to come to terms with the fact that he was about to attempt a small act of kindness. Which disturbed him more than he’d like to own up to.

 

“Cassy?” He leaned towards the back room, hoping to be heard over the white noise of the large mixer going on. “You have time to make an apple pie tonight?”

 

The mixer shut off for about three seconds, just long enough for his brother to call out, “I make the pies in the morning. You know that.” Then there were only mixing sounds from the back.

 

Nick knew his brother’s policy. Castiel had a very set process when it came to baking, and he was not comfortable with veering off from the norm.  Which meant that he was going to spend the next hour or two on cakes before moving onto pastries, and then going home for the night. There was really no sense in even trying to talk him into changing things up, even just this one time.

 

In a small, last ditch effort before just offering to box up a variety of slices, Nick looked up at the man in front of him with a very necessary and yet unnatural feeling up tilt of his head. “Where’d your brother come from?”

 

“Uh… South Dakota?”

 

“Good.” Nick turned back to the doorway to the kitchen “This guy’s brother came all the way out here from South- _fucking_ -Dakota just for your apple pie, Cassy. You sure you can’t do something for him?”

 

The mixer turned off again, and there was some shuffling. “That’s very flattering, Nick. But-” Castiel popped his head out of the back and seemed to briefly lose track of his train of thoughts. “You are uncomfortably tall.”

 

The man laughed. Either at the obvious observation and the fact that Castiel had zero verbal filter, or it could be that the little dark haired baker was covered very thoroughly in a liberal coating of flour. Hair, face, arms, clothes. All dusted in random smears of white.

 

“I’ve heard that. Yes.” Sort of self consciously, he smoothed his hands over his own clean (but rain dampened and mussed) clothes. “My brother ate pretty much the whole pie you made in less than two days, and he hasn’t shut up about it since then. I was really hoping to send him home with a pie or two… if it’s not too much trouble.” Then he smiled like a beauty pageant contestant. “I’ll pay extra.”

 

Castiel got that complicated look that he did sometimes. “It will take me about an hour, and I will require coffee.”

 

“I can get coffee.” He grinned with those dimples of his.

 

“Good,” and then Cassy was ducking back to his cave, shortly followed by the sound of his mixer starting back up.

 

Nick shook his head. “He takes it black, with room for cream.” He felt a need to clarify since his brother had already moved on.

 

The poor sap who’d inadvertently volunteered to go back out into the rain for something as stupid as coffee,  nodded, looking happier than he had any right too. “Thank you. Really.”

 

That level of cheerfulness and gratitude was a bit disturbing to Nick. He folded his arms over the pastry case, looking up at this stunning sort of man who obviously liked his own brother more than anyone should like their brother, if he was willing to go through this much trouble. “I take my coffee the same way.”

 

Nick also liked his coffee served to him early in the morning, while he was still in bed, preferably naked… though it didn’t seem appropriate to mention those sorts of preferences to a relative stranger.

 

.:.

 

The third time that Nick saw this giant man with his need for pie was less than forty-five minutes after he’d left to go on a drink run.  Which meant that it hardly counted as a separate time, since Nick wasn’t suffering from any weird kind of object permanence issues and it really felt the like the man had only just left.

 

There he was though, coffee in each hand, knuckles rapping awkwardly against the glass, face nearly hidden by the way that the wind was whipping his hair about. And even if it was amusing to leave the walking-talking-disruption out in the storm... the coffee would only get cold.

 

And Nick was not the kind of man who liked cold coffee. So he nudged the door open and squinted into the strong wind that apparently thought that it was welcome to come in too. He was only too happy to lock the door up again once the coffee bearer had come through.

 

“I don’t know how picky you two are,” this mess of a man smiled like a boyscout. “It’s a Sumatran blend.” And he was holding a paper cup out to Nick, expectant, and still just too damn happy.

 

Nick didn’t take the coffee though. Instead, seeing as there was nothing stopping him, he did something about that fucking tie. It wasn’t his place to lace a man up if he was all done with his suit wearing job for the day and wanted to have his collar a little loose- but the skinny part of the tie was longer than the other, the whole thing hanging just crooked enough to really, really bother Nick. He loosened the knot so he could adjust things, lining the two ends up the right way before smoothing the maddening bit of cloth down.

 

“There.” He nodded shallowly. “That’s been driving me crazy since you came in earlier.”

 

“Oh…” was the man’s stunning answer as he stood there awkwardly with a cup in each hand.

“I’ve got this class on Mondays. The instructor insists that we come in professional dress. And for a kid who grew up in a mechanic’s shop- it’s still taking a bit to get used to. About an hour in, it starts to feel like I’m wearing a noose.”

 

“I think it’s just one of those things that you get used to eventually?” Nick really wouldn’t know, but it seemed like some sort of condolences were supposed to be offered.  He took the two coffees and made no attempt at eye contact as he stepped out of the man’s personal space. Going around the counter, into the back room and setting Castiel’s cup down within arm’s reach.

 

When he came back out the man was still standing right where he’d been left, looking down at his tie like he’d just noticed it was there. Such a lost, almost confused look for such a big, broad shouldered, sturdy fella.

 

And it was another one of those moment where Nick would rather not get too involved, but at the same time couldn’t help himself because despite being tired at the end of his work day, that there was a lovely example of masculinity buttoned up into a navy blue suit.

 

“My name’s Nick, by the way.” He busied himself with finding a mug and pouring half his coffee into it, before sneaking two slices of blackberry pie from the case. “I figure, you know, if I’m going to be charging you forty bucks for two amazing, fresh, life changing, wish granting pies- then we should be on a first name basis.”

 

“They grant  wishes now?”

 

“Sure, why not.” And he set the drinks and dessert on to one of the few little tables that they had in the lobby.  “You’ve got another twenty minutes or so until your apple pies are ready. Come sit down.”

 

And he did- he actually came and sat down across from Nick, which was sort of charming in it’s own rite. “I’m Sam.”

 

“Sam,” he tried it out and liked how it sounded. “Well, Sam, eat. This pie literally does nothing other than taste like blackberries and summer. But you’ll like it.”

 

“Summer?” The newly named Sam looked out at the rain falling sideways outside on the grey January day.

 

“Can’t think of a better day to need a bit of summer… can you?”

 

.:.

 

The fourth time might not have counted any more than the third. Mostly because Nick wasn’t positive that it was the same guy. Sure, the man that he saw at the weekend farmer’s market was comically tall. Tall enough that he had to keep ducking his head as he passed under the low hanging stall umbrellas while browsing through the produce.  And this time of year that wasn’t all that much fresh, local produce to be had- and what there was came at a steep price.

 

And, because it would have been very strange and pointless to follow in the shadow of the possible Sam sighting (because Nick had no idea what he would have said if it was the same man if it was), Nick just took his fresh eggs and jars of raw honey, loaded them into the back seat of his car, and went back home.

 

.:.

 

The fifth time was… unexpected.

 

Nick was handing back change to a girl with blue hair, who’d just purchase a black forest cake that she’d special ordered days ago. Apparently her boyfriend, who she’d been internet dating for three years, was going to be coming in on a flight this evening. Castiel had been utterly charmed by the story- unlike Nick, who thought it was just kind of sad. But that was one of the difference between him and his brother. Cassy was a bit of a romantic. Nick was a bit more realistic.  

 

The gal took her perfect blue box, holding it tight to her chest and thanking him again before heading for the door, only to have it held open for her by Sam.

 

Nick’s mind went pleasantly blank as he struggled to think of something suitably witty to say. “You’re a bit too early.”

 

“Early?” Sam chuckled, shaking off the cold and adjusting the straps of his backpack with his hand that wasn’t carefully gripping a coffee.

 

“We don’t close for another few hours.” Nick explained while trying not to smile at how very different this man could look out of his suit. And even though he’d never had a thing for lumberjacks, or mechanics, or whatever the hell Sam way, Nick found the whole jeans and flannel combo startlingly appealing. “I’ll have to ask you to come back later so I can tell you that we’re closed.”

 

Sam grinned and came over, setting his drink on the counter.

 

Not entirely understanding the gesture, Nick looked suspiciously at the cup.

 

“For you… I’m hoping that you’ll let me steal one of your tables so I can study for a bit.”

 

Nick kept on staring at the offering of caffeine, not sure what this warm and twisting feeling in his chest was.

 

“It’s pledge week on campus, not even the library’s quiet any more.” And Sam eyes went all sorts of soft and puppy like, even as he gave no explanation as to why his own home was not an option here. But the bakery was within walking distance of campus. Perhaps it was just for convenience sake.  

 

So Nick nodded towards the tables and picked up the drink, sipping on it, overly pleased at how strong it was. “Just don’t make any trouble.”

 

“Trouble? Me?” Sam grinned again, using it like a weapon. “You won’t even notice I’m here.”

 

Which, when dealing with people of Sam’s size, was no easy trick.

 

Every now and then, between customers, Nick would find himself overtly aware of the man curled up over a textbook, with handwritten notes and highlighters spread over every inch of the laminate table top. Notice him, and wonder what it was that he was reading so intently.

 

Not enough enough curiosity about it to ask though.

 

Nick wasn’t ready to commit himself to any level of small talk. Especially since each time he started to work himself up to it, another customer would come it. Moms with kids who pressed their little faces and hands up against the pastry case with open longing. A lady who was cheating at her local bake sale by not doing an actual baking of her own. A couple teenaged girls who came in at least once a week to get cookies to munch on while they leached the store’s wifi and giggled at one of the tables. A few others. Enough to keep Nick busy.

 

But not busy enough that he didn’t find time to slip a few fresh chocolate chip cookies onto a little plate and set them, along with a glass of milk, down beside Sam’s notes.

 

The man _hmmed_ so softly, looking to the plate, then Nick, then the plate again before turning one of those smiles of his upward. “Thank you.”

 

“Cassy just made them and there were too many to fit in the case... I didn’t want to have to put them away.” Which was mostly true.

 

A laugh went with the man’s infections smiling. “Thank you, still.”

 

Spiteful of the repeated praise, Nick broke off a piece of one of Sam’s cookies and shoved it in his own mouth before heading back to his counter. Busying himself with receipts while somewhere behind him he heard Sam’s soft moan and a whispered, “oh my god.”

 

Nick had no good answer to that.

 

“This is amazing.” Sam got the words around a mouthful of cookie.

 

“I’ll convey your ecstasy to the chef.”

 

“I mean it, though. Cookies have no business tasting this good.”

 

They were _just_ cookies. But even Nick had to admit that there was something undeniably nostalgic and kind of regressive about hot cookies and cold milk that always took him down a notch or two. “It’s all the drugs he puts in them.”

 

Sam chuckled into his milk.

 

“We’ve got buckets of cocaine in the back.”

 

“ _Hmm_ ,” the edges of Sam’s eyes crinkled, “and when I met him I’d thought he was covered in flour. I guess even bakers need to let loose sometimes.”

 

And he really wanted some kind of comeback to that, but he got so lost in the mental image of his younger brother just flinging cocaine around like confetti, Nick just ended up leaning his elbows onto the counted to steady himself while he laughed.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The ninth time Sam came into the shop, there were problems. The fact that he was as tall as a flag pole was the only reason that Nick could even notice the man through the sea of customers. Granted, it was probably only eight or ten people- but they were a very small store, and you really started to feel it once you shove that many people in such a small space.

 

“Sam,” and if Nick sounded a little desperate it was probably a bit lost under the general noise of so many people talking at once.

 

“Nick…” Sam chuckled, that toothy, crooked smile of his showing that he found this situation amusing. “You’re having a party and you didn’t invite me?”

 

But he was in no mood for joking right now. “Can you count back change?” 

 

“What?”

 

“Get your ass back here and help me.” Nick’s voice felt tight, and he had zero fucks to give for the cluster of old ladies up front who scowled at him and his choice of words. 

 

Sam, good, kind, helpful Sam squeezed his way through the small crowd, dropping little apologize as he went. “What’s going on?”

 

And the young man kind of laughed and jumped as Nick took him by his sides and planted him in front of the little register. Taking Sam’s backpack from him and tucking it off to the side.

 

“My damn dyslexic brother and Groupon is what is going on.” He tugged his apron off over his head and slipped it onto Sam, tying the strings at the small of his back. “Everything in the case has a price on it. What’s in the case is all we have right now. No you can’t go check in the back, you are sure that’s all we have. The fucking coupon  _ is  _ actually, really for buying any one item and getting three for free.” Nick hated everything today. “Please be nicer than I am to these lovely people. You can keep any tips they give you- and I’m going to either go help my brother or kill him.”

 

“Oh-ok.” Sam took it all in stride, sort of laughing and shrugging and turning to the ladies at the counter and giving them one of those smiles of his as he asked, “and what can I get for you today?” Like he’d been doing it for years.

 

God bless him. 

 

Unlike Castile.

 

“I’m going to hurt you once all the customers are gone.” He promised as he sidled up beside his younger brother, falling into whatever task he felt confident that he wouldn’t completely ruin. 

 

“It was an honest mistake.” Castiel sighed while he measured out some sugar. 

 

“ _ You _ were an honest mistake.” And Nick almost didn’t care when, from the corner of his eye, he saw the other man stop working in favor of just standing there looking like a child who’d just been told the dark truth about Santa. But this brother was one of the few, if the only person on this planet that he cared enough about to mumble a soft, “come on. Show me what we’re working on. We need to get more everything out there before those old ladies revolt and carry off Sam.”

 

“Who is Sam?” Castiel tilted his head, confused even as his hands went right back to work rolling out some pie dough.   

 

“Guy who’s been coming in a few times a week to study.” Nick got out two pie pans, laying them near the floured surface, getting them ready. He could see his brother slowing down though, frowning, getting way too caught up on who the hell was manning the counter. “Apple pies for a brother in Dakota…”

 

“The horrifyingly tall man?”

 

“Yes,” Nick rolled his eyes. “The tall one.”

 

“Oh. Him. He had the sort of face that would have looked right between your hands.” Which was a strange thing to say, even for Castiel.

 

“I didn’t know you liked him?” The idea gave Nick very mixed feelings. “You want me to talk to him for you?”

 

So carefully, his younger brother layed one of the pie crusts over the pan, pushing the corners into place- all the while giving Nick a significant amount of side eye. “Why would I want you to talk to him for me, Nick?”

 

_ Why _ ? Because Nick still remembered the incredibly uncomfortable relationship that Castiel had had with his high school girlfriend. The one that had gone on for nearly three years before his brother had even realized that someone was dating him. 

 

Needless to say, it hadn’t ended well.

 

But Nick shook his head and got to work. Now was not the time to get distracted. He could puzzle over his brother’s sexuality a different day. For now, he just needed to help get things into the oven.

 

.:.

 

The next time he saw Sam, the man was slowly being worn down by one of the most persistent people on the planet. He’d started out strong, but no one was a match for Cassy. Nick’s brother was relentless, and seemingly did not understand the word ‘no’. 

 

“I insist.” Castiel continued to hold out the handful of cash to the taller man.

 

Sam continued to shake his head. “I can’t.”

 

The whole thing was starting to feel very old.

 

“You will be doing me a favor. Take him with you to get dinner.” In a surprising show of confidence, the smaller man caught one of Sam’s hands and pressed the money into it. “I’m afraid of what he’s going to do to me without witnesses around.”

 

With a laugh, Sam grinned over at Nick, but the look softened as he glanced back down at Cassy. “I think he’s calmed down.”

 

“You don’t know him like I do.” He promised in a guarded whisper. “He never lets anything go. My brother hoards grudges like a dragon hoards princesses. My best bet is to offer him dinner with a handsome man, while I stay here and close up for him.”

 

In his own defence, Nick started to mount some kind of protest… but his brother wasn’t wrong. Free food and not having to clean the store for once would do a lot to improve his mood. 

 

“Well,” Sam hadn’t grown tired of grinning, “you did do me a big favor with those apple pies for my brother. I suppose I can take yours on a walk if that makes us even.”

 

Castiel nodded so solemnly, like this was a legal binding contract. “A brother for a brother.”

 

“Are you coming?” Nick already had his coat on, feeling very over listening to the weird bargaining for his ownership. 

 

“I am. I am.” The mountain of a man shoved the handful of bills into his pocket and came over, opening the door and gesturing widely with one arm. “Lead the way.”

 

They walked nearly side by side, keeping close for reasons that mostly had to do with the windchill. Supposedly it was spring, but no one seemed to have conveyed that to the state of Massachusetts, seeing as just last week they’d had a few inches of snow.

 

“So…” Sam spoke so easily, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, as he surveyed the parking lot, “what’s the plan?”

 

Nick glanced up, still very unused to the fact that he had to with this man. Though it was possible that he’d never get used to someone actually being taller than him for once. “What are you in the mood for?” Because at this point Nick was ready to walk across the street to the Gas n’ Sip and get some Hostess cupcakes and just sit on the sidewalk. 

 

“There’s a grocery store near by, if you don’t live too far we could do a little shopping and then I could make you dinner.”

 

Nick missed a step, but thought that he covered it up well. “Why, Sam, I do believe those are flirting words.” By which he was only teasing the younger man and in no way expected the answer that came just as easy as everything else. 

 

“And if that was my plan?”

 

Oh?

 

_ Oh _ …

 

Hell.

 

It would have been really neat if Nick had a comeback for that one. Only, he knew himself. Knew himself well enough that he didn’t have to know Sam all that well at all to comfortably say that the younger man was definitely out of his league- among many, many other reasons.

 

“I mean…” Sam chuckled softly, awkwardly running a hand through that hair of his and grinning into the wind. “Unless you don’t like guys… I’d just kind of assumed since you have a bakery… and then all those free cookies-”

 

“Wow, kindly go fuck yourself.” Nick laughed a little too loud. “Just because I own a bakery doesn’t instantly mean I like men.” He needed to point out on behalf of all those hetrosexual bakers the world over.

 

The slight pinkness to Sam’s cheeks was either from the biting cold, or from embarrassment at his enormous social faux pas. But there was no reason that it couldn’t be both.

 

“The fact that I have a boyfriend probably does though.”  That writing discomfort of another human could only be enjoyed for so long though, and Nick felt a need to come clean and put the guy out of his misery. He ducked his head, hiding his smile, enjoying this all a little too much. “Or at least  _ he _ seems to think so, and it’s a bit hard to argue when you’re in bed with the guy, so...”

 

And then Sam was laughing too, even if his seemed a little strained. “Sorry, Nick, for…  _ umm _ , I could have approached the whole thing a bit better, couldn’t I?”

 

“Don’t sorry nothing. It’s flattering to think a son of bitch like myself would be of interest to a handsome young buck like yourself. And seeing as you really helped us out today I will not spitefully cut you off from your weekly cookie fix.”

 

“Well, I guess I appreciate that.”

 

“You better. College boy like yourself. Far from home, and obviously here on a scholarship of some kind because you don’t talk, walk, or act like you come from money. And you keep coming in with that havn’t slept, haven’t eaten, look to you. Least I can do is feed you.”

 

“Cookies?”

 

“Cookies are what I have, so cookies is what you get.” There had also been a few wayward slices of pie now and then to help round things out, but it was the principle. And Nick sort of loved the fact that he wasn’t wrong in his assumptions about Sam- at least as far as he could tell. Most of the kids who got into Harvard looked like they belonged here. Straight laced, short hair, polo shirts and khakis, entitled little pieces of garbage who never would have slipped so easily behind the counter today like Sam did because that kind of work would have been beneath them. It meant that this man’s parents weren’t richer than god. It meant that he was paying his own way through school one way or another. Which lead up to the inevitable nice young man who always said please and thank you, and probably don’t have enough money left over to buy food once books and tuition were all out of the way.    

 

Nick stretched as best as he could while still keeping his hands in his pockets. “I know a dive bar outside of town. Mostly truckers, sometimes bikers… but they’ve got pitchers of good beer, great burgers, and a pool table that’s almost always free.”

 

“I feel like to be fair, seeing as this isn’t a date because someone got to you first,” Sam showed so many teeth as he grinned, “I’m just going to go ahead and let you know now that I’m not even going to pretend to feel bad when I beat your sorry ass at pool.”

 

.:.

 

The fact that Sam was bent over the pool table was probably more about lining up his cue, and less about showing off how well he fit in those jeans- but Nick found little to no difference. Distracting enough that he started to feel a bit like a creep, so he moseyed his way to the far side of the table and poured himself another glass of beer. 

 

“You can do with this information whatever the hell you want,” he watched the funny way that the tip of the other man’s tongue was sticking out just a bit as he took his shot. “But you’re obviously a bit single and I think that my brother might like you.”

 

Sam’s nose wrinkled just a bit and he came around to Nick’s side of the table as he figured out his next shot. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s nice and all, but he’s…”

 

“A bit of a weirdo?”

 

“I was going to say ‘not my type’.” He sunk three more balls before stepping back and smiling at Nick without an ounce of shame. “I really thought you’d put up more of a fight here, Nick. If we were playing for money I’d probably have the title for your car by now.”

 

“Would you settle for a part time job?”

 

Sam had been going for his own drink, but he stopped with the glass halfway to his mouth. “You serious?”

 

“We usually hire someone to help out during the busy season.” Nick chalked his cue and made a point of wandering around the table and looking at all the awful shots that he could take and miss. “I mean, we already know you, you've shown that you’re not afraid of the silver haired customers, and it would save me the effort of putting a sign in the window.”

 

“I didn’t know that bakeries had busy seasons…”

 

“When you live in an area where women actively throw garden parties, then yes. You sure as hell have a busy season. And I for one think that a pretty face like yours could go a long way with soothing those tanning bed baked cougars. Just flash them some of those dimples and tell them anything they want to hear that keeps them from yelling at Cassy because they think it’s completely unfair that he doesn’t take last minute orders and they really need those thirty perfect lavender and rose  _ petit fours _ by lunch time.”

 

“That sounds a little too oddly specific there.”

 

Nick missed his shot and leaned his cue against the wall, doing his best to not bristle at the young man who was smiling at him. 

 

“Who hurt you, Nick?”

 

“Look- I’ve seen things, kiddo. You don’t know real fear until you’ve had a fifty year old woman who thinks that she still can pass for twenty-five, grab you by the collar with her hundred dollar manicure, and tell you that she wants to speak to your manager.”

 

“Don’t you and your brother own the place?”

 

Nick nodded.

 

“So that makes you the manager. Right?”

 

“Couldn’t convince her of it. She was going to have a word with her lawyer.”

 

“It sounds like a laugh a minute. You know,” Sam grinned, “you’re really good at selling people on working for you.”

 

“Hey, if my testimonial isn’t enough, when we go back to the shop to see what a bad job Cassy did at cleaning, I’ll let him talk you into it.” Nick busied himself with his drink because Sam was leaning over the table again and it wasn’t hardly fair. “Not that he’s all that persuasive in his own right, but damn if he isn’t good at looking pitiful. I’ve yet to meet the person who could hold up for longer than five minutes.”

 

Sam laughed.

 

He also folded under Castiel’s ‘helplessly hopeful’ face in under record time. 

 

Which meant that for that spring the store’s body count was up to three, and with his brother almost strictly a back room dweller, Nick was happy with the part time company. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking one new chapter a day... every other day? until we're all caught up with each other. I don't know how often people check their emails and I don't want to harass your inboxes with notifications.
> 
> Can I say though that even if I had no intention of working on any fics for a month or two and giving my brain a break, that I have pretty much no regrets at my choice of time wasting.

Months later, when the trees were blooming, the socialites throwing weekly garden parties, and finals looming on the horizon, Sam actually turned out to be less help than expected. Every chance he could get he was slipping off to the back to bury his face in class notes and textbooks. Studying and leaving Nick to box cakes and take money from women who didn’t carry bills smaller than fifties.

 

After a small rush, and turning around to find himself alone yet again, Nick sighed and poked his head into the back, easily finding Sam perched on top of a twenty gallon drum of shortening. “I’m not paying you to help balance the feng shui of the kitchen.”

 

“I’ve got a test tomorrow,” Sam didn’t even look up from his book.

 

“Yes,” Castiel piped up from his work table where he was frosting sugar cookies to look like sunflowers. “He’s got a test tomorrow, Nick.”

 

“I don’t care if he’s got a date with the Pope tomorrow. I hired the nice boy with the nice smile to talk to the mean customers so that I don’t have to- because I swear, the next lady who comes to my counter with a dog in her purse, asking for a free cookie for her ‘ _baby_ ’ I’m going to lose it.”

 

“You will not lose anything.” Castiel waved the whole notion off with a waggle of his piping bag.

 

Sam finally looked up, balancing his book over his knees. “Just let me finish this page, and I’ll man the counter until we close. Ok?”

 

Despite the fact that Nick wanted to just flatly say no to the request, or that he couldn’t think of a single day over the last month that Sam didn’t spend the majority of it with his face in a book- he just grunted and went back out to the front to go over some receipts and feel annoyed.

 

A feeling that didn’t last long as Sam slipped past him, one warm hand brushing over the curve of Nick’s back to let him know he was there.

 

“Hey,” personal space had been done away with some time back, and the younger man crowded in beside Nick like he was coming home. “You going to get all grumpy if I keep my notes up here and study between customers?”

 

“Grumpy?”

 

“Cas says that you’re especially grumpy today.” Sam smiled and set a notebook down on the counter. “So I should try not to get you too worked up.”

 

This was news to Nick. He didn’t feel any saltier today than normal- but his brother knew his moods well, and who was he to question these things. Maybe he was wound a little too tightly, a little more irritable than usual, but it wasn’t by choice.

 

“And it’s not my business,” Sam took a suddenly unsteady breath, looking for all the world like he was bracing himself, “so you can tell me to fuck off if you like, but-”

 

The little bell over the front door jangled and three familiar teenaged girls came in, giggling and making a beeline straight to Sam. He was at least a good five years too old for any of them, but he was pretty and friendly, and so the age difference never seemed to slow the girls down as they made eyes at the man and ordered their regular after school treats.

 

Once they were all settled at their favorite little table by the window, phones out and gossiping about only god knows what, Nick turned to Sam, “I think you were getting ready to say something to make me want to smack the dimples right off you?”

 

Sam’s gaze drifted to the girls and when he smiled at Nick it was a little tight lipped. “Maybe when there’s less witnesses.”

 

And seeing as whatever it was that Sam wanted to talk about was almost guaranteed to not be anything at all that Nick wanted to talk about, he was more than fine with wayling the conversation for another time, or another day. So he happily let Sam take whatever customers came in while he focused on taking inventory and then in helping his brother to box up an order of five dozen cookies shaped like five dozen different varieties of flowers that were for someone’s bridal shower tomorrow.

 

By the time he came back to the front to lock up, Sam was wiping down the tables, humming softly to himself. Nick let the man work, secretly very happy to have the help because the sooner they were cleaned up the sooner he could head home and check for messages on the cell phone that he’d forgotten to grab on his way out the door that morning.

 

Locking the door and then counting out the register, Nick found himself getting a little distracted by Sam’s open notebook sitting out. Unreasonably tidy handwriting that never strayed into the margins, and perfect little bullet points, as if Sam were some kind of professional note taker.

 

“I thought you said that you were studying law?” He mused as he flipped through a few pages.

 

“I am,” Sam glanced over and smiled, smoothing a hand over his apron. “Those are for my psychology class.”

 

“They make wannabe lawyers take head shrinking classes now?”

 

“They have us take ethics classes too,” he laughed softly, “almost like they want us to be able to make good moral decisions and have some stable footing when it comes to dealing with criminals.”

 

Nick made a face and kept looking over those careful notes, “So what good does it do you to know what to call it if a client exhibits… ‘long-standing habit of attention seeking behavior and extreme emotionality’?”

 

After a moment’s hesitation during which Sam looked to be thinking very hard, he nodded to himself and mumbled, “ _histrionic personality disorder_. Um… nothing. It doesn’t help me at all. But I don’t decide on the pre-reqs. I just take them.”

 

“ _Histrionic_ sounds pretty made up- also, like the opposite of what Castiel has.” He read over the next few definitions. “Oh, this one could be me though, ‘sets unrealistic goals, has trouble keeping healthy relationships’... sounds about right.”

 

“You do _not_ have narcissistic personality disorder,” Sam snatched his book off the counter. “Because you’d also have to think that you were special or important or unique.”

 

“Touche,” Nick laughed and tucked the cash from the register into a bank deposit bag.

 

“But um… Cas may have mentioned something to me about you and troubled relationships.”

 

Which was enough to stop Nick in his tracks. “Oh good. I’m glad that my personal life makes for good conversations between the two of you.”

 

“It’s not like that.” And Sam smiled the kind of smile that you give to the kid who always gets picked last for basketball. “Your brother just mentioned that your boyfriend’s been out of town for a few weeks and that you might do well with getting out of the house for a bit tonight. He invited me to come along… and I would if I didn’t have to study for tomorrow’s test. But I still wanted to just check with you. See if you’re doing alright?”

 

It was hard to feel the warm comfort of brotherly concern for his general well being when Nick’s romantic irregularities were apparently the topic of workplace gossip. “My boyfriend’s got a place up in Ottawa. He commutes between two branch offices, and spends every other week down here. Things came up, and the last few times he hasn’t been able to make it out.” Which meant it had been almost a month since Nick had been able to pin the bastard against the wall and make him beg. It’s funny the odd little things that you miss about a person.  “So, thank you for the concern, Doctor Ruth, but I’m just fine.”

 

“Glad to hear it.” And Sam sounded honest in that simple statement, with that big dumb, sweet look on his face.

 

“Go on. I can finish up here.” Nick shook his head. “You’ve got all that super fun studying that I don’t want to keep you from.”

 

“Thanks,” Sam tossed his apron in the back and grabbed his bookbag, stopping to lean slightly into Nick, their shoulders touching for a moment as he passed on his way to the door. “I know what it’s like to miss someone… my last final is on Thursday. Let me know if you want to go get dinner or something.”

 

Nick chose to ignore the invitation in favor of the more interesting little tidbit that had nothing at all to do with him. “You missing someone?” He leaned one elbow on the pastry case, resting his chin on his fist and getting excited for a story. “You saying that you maybe left a little broken heart back in North Dakota or wherever you said you’re from?”

 

“South Dakota, and no… at least I don’t think so? But my brother is like two thousand miles away-”

 

“I would pay actual money to be that far away from my family.”

 

Sam chuckled, leaning a shoulder into the doorframe as he curled the edges of his notebook under a thumb. “All I’m saying is if you want to get out for a while and not think about people who aren’t here, you’ve got my number.”

 

What was he supposed to do under such unnecessary niceness? “I have your number. Now get out before I fire you.” Make small threats. It helped.

 

He needed a lot of help.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like Balthazar. He's like... my second favorite angel. I feel like I need to put this out here near the beginning, before this stories' Nick gets particularly salty about him in a few chapters. 
> 
> yeah

It might have been the fiftieth time that Nick got to see Sam. He’d lost count a long while back, but if he’d been keeping track, and hadn’t been so hungover that he would have sold his soul for a handful of aspirin, then he might have celebrated the nice anniversary. As it was, all he managed to do was to squint groggily up at the man who was towering over him like a skyscraper, frowning in a worried kind of way. 

 

“Cas said that you weren't feeling well today… he didn’t mention that it was because you’d drunk your weight in cheap alcohol.”

 

“Unless you’re here to kill me, fuck off. You’re too loud.”

 

Sam ignored the simple request, because Sam was a monster. Instead he started shuffling around Nick, collecting empty bottles and taking them by the arm full to the recycle bin under the kitchen sink. He also turned off Nick’s laptop, silencing the music. 

 

“When I asked your brother why the ceiling was playing the same damn song on repeat all day long, he told me that there was an apartment above the bakery. Failed to mention it was your apartment and your bad taste in music, up until he asked me to go upstairs and check on you before I head home.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“You’re welcome to peel yourself off the couch and come over here and make me, any time you feel like it, boss.”

 

Nick had enough energy to get one arm up, shakily flipping the other man off before letting his arm drop as he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes tightly. 

 

“I’d ask if you were up late last night partying, but you’re not exactly the social type.” Sam was somewhere in the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards. 

 

“Do you have to talk so much? Or so loud?”

 

Almost anyone else probably would have slammed one of the little doors out of spite, but Sam’s movements grew quieter. So much so when he suddenly crouched down beside Nick and nudged his arm with a cool glass of something to drink it was all rather startling. 

 

“Fucking make some noise when you walk.” Nick hissed, curling away from the cold. “You quiet son of a bitch.”

 

Sam sighed and gently nudged Nick with the glass again. “Pain medicine. Take it.” 

 

“You  _ beautiful _ son of a bitch.” He mumbled a heartfelt thank you before fumbling for the offered pills and water.

 

“Can I get you anything else? A blanket, some coffee, a shower?”

 

Nick swallowed most of his water before letting the cup down onto the floor and putting an arm over his eyes. “Be a dear and find a pillow for me- then smother me with it until I black out?”

 

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that.” Sam smoothed a hand over his side, up his neck and into his hair, just petting like you would with a dog, lightly scratching his scalp. 

 

“Then will you drive up to Canada, find a man named Balthazar, and break his nose for me?”

 

“Balthazar? Really…?  _ Balthazar _ ?” He seemed to be struggling with the name. Most people did. “Well, for you?” Sam’s hand was so steady and heavy. “I’ll break a nose and maybe even a kneecap or two.”

 

Nick still felt sick to his stomach, but oddly kind of happy suddenly. “Maybe just hold him down while I beat his face in?”

 

To which Sam made a soft agreeable noise as his fingers kept up their steady movement. “You want to talk about why you’re trying to drown your liver?”

 

Nick pulled his arm away from his face enough that he could peep up at Sam with a single bloodshot eye. He did not want to talk. He wasn’t heart broken. He wasn’t looking for a shoulder to cry on. He wasn’t in any mood to talk about last night’s binge drinking. And it must have showed on his face because Sam didn’t press.

 

Arm back over his eyes, Nick sunk into darkness and the weak spring support of his lumpy couch. Surprisingly Sam’s hand stayed on him, rubbing the tension from his head and neck- though it might have been the little white pills taking effect. 

 

Either way.

 

After what was probably close to an hour, Nick started to feel like something that might have been able to pass for human. He let his arm fall away from his face and let a smile hook the edge of his mouth as he saw Sam sitting on the floor beside him, phone in the hand that wasn’t tangled in Nick’s hair. 

 

“What are you reading?”

 

Sam jumped just enough to show that he’d been fairly involved in his phone screen.  He looked over his shoulder with just a hint of dimple. “The Odyssey.”

 

It was summer vacation. There was no excuse for spending a Friday night reading something as dry and boring as, “ _The_ _Odyssey_? God. You’re a strange one.”

 

“You’re feeling better?” One of Sam’s thumbs skimmed over his temple.

 

Nick gave a half hearted shrug. Just rolling the one shoulder he wasn’t laying on. “I feel less like there is a mariachi band playing between my ears if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“Good enough to go get a shower?” Sam sort of asked, but it really sounded more like a strong suggestion. “Maybe shave a little?” And his fingers strayed just a moment to the line of Nick’s jaw.

 

The touch was distracting, but not enough for Nick to miss the friendly insult/concern being given.  “Just how bad do I look?”

 

“Like you’re coming off a week long bender.” 

 

Unevenly, he sat up, rubbing the back of a hand over his mouth and looking around his living room. The place was a mess, even after Sam’s light tidying up.  Which wasn’t the usual state of things, unless Nick had been drinking. If he cared about what Sam thought of him then Nick might have been a bit ashamed that this was the first time that the man was seeing his home. 

 

The only real problem that he was facing now was the overwhelming sobriety. It meant that he had to refind his momentum.  There was, after all, only so long that anyone can really dwell on the ending of a bad relationship. And about twenty-four hours seemed more than enough time. “You have anywhere to be tonight?” 

 

Sam’s phone vanished into a pocket and he shook his head. “I’m yours.”

 

Which was significantly more than Nick was looking for. “Coffee?”

 

“I can do coffee.”

 

“There might be some Bailey's in the cupboard. Do it a bit half and half.” Nick suggested. Only half serious, because more alcohol wasn’t going to fix anything, but at the same time the echoing headache would do well being smothered under some whiskey.

 

“ _ Strong _ coffee.” Sam promised with a laugh. “Prohibition coffee. Suitable for nuns and small children.”

 

“You’re boring.” He puffed as he wobbly got his legs under him. “And I’m going to go get a shower.” Because Nick could take a hint- even one as subtle as Sam had given. 

 

He didn’t shave though, even after stairing himself down in the bathroom mirror once he’d scrubbed himself over in a quick, cold shower, and marveling at how awful he really looked. However, bruised eyes, rough stubble, and trembling hands were fine for something as simple as coffee. It wasn’t a formal occasion after all.

 

Only, Sam wasn’t in the apartment when Nick came out of the bath. Through the doorway that lead down the stairs and into the shop had been left open, and there were lights on down in the shop. So he followed the signs of life and found the other man sitting at Castiel’s work table with two coffees and two Egg Mc Muffins.

 

“I called your brother. He said said that they were your favorite hangover food.” Sam nodded towards the greasy sandwiches. 

 

“Cassy overshares.” 

 

Sam ducked his head to hide what might have been a bit of a smile. “It helps me out, seeing as you aren’t exactly an open book, Nick.”

 

“Gee, I didn’t know that we were BFFs suddenly.” Nick found a stool to perch on and snagged himself one of the cups. “You should have told me sooner. Here I was thinking I was your boss, and my personal life was no one’s business but my own.”

 

“I’ve known you for months, Nick.” For someone with such a usually sweet demeanor, Sam was really good at turning it around and going full bitchface in seconds flat. “We have dinner together on a regular basis. You’ve had me fix your car in exchange for beer. You and your brother gave me a whipped cream salute for my birthday a few weeks ago- after which you licked my face. You’ve transcended ‘boss’ at this point. I honestly don’t think that you were ever there in the first place.” 

 

These were all very fair points to make. That did not mean that Nick enjoyed acknowledging them. “Well… yeah… the brakes are making that noise again.”

 

“I’ll take a look at them tomorrow.” Sam sipped on his own coffee, using the cup to shield a small smile from Nick.

 

But he saw.

 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

 

“No.” Sam sounded so very sincere, even if none of it showed on his face.

 

“Yes, you are.”

 

“You’re my friend, Nick... or course I’m enjoying this.” Sam’s sweet demeanor folded in on itself as easily as he’d built it up, chuckling like the humor in this all should be obvious. “Just like you enjoyed my descent into the madness of finals. I made it out ok, stronger for it- and you will too.”

 

“I am fine,  _ Sammy _ .” He bore his teeth a little, knowing how much the younger man disliked the nickname. 

 

“I’ve never seen you have more than two beers in one sitting.” Sam said softly. And that was it. He didn’t mention the fact that he’d picked up two whiskey bottles, a questionable number of beer cans, and a mostly empty bottle of rum. He didn’t  _ need  _ to mention it. The pressure behind Nick’s eyes and the sour taste in the back of his throat was plenty reminder on it’s own. 

 

If he didn’t tell Sam now, eventually Castiel would find out and share it. Because somehow, when he’d decided to keep this man around, Nick had inadvertently agreed to adopting a new family member. A new person to worry over him and make a big deal about nothing at all.  “If I tell you about the big nothing, will you promise to let it drop?”

 

Sam gave the smallest nod, looking so expectant. 

 

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much of a story to tell. “So, yesterday afternoon I get a call from a woman up in Ottawa. She wants to know if I know a man named Balthazar- and I’m not in the habit of lying to strange women, so I say yes. She goes on to tell me that she was looking through his phone, saw that him and me texted a lot, figured we must be friends, and wanted to know if I knew who he was fooling around with down in Massachusetts. The girl’s in tears, and I know, I just  _ know _ that the son of a bitch has been cheating on me with her.” The memory was still raw. A fresh wound that hurt somewhere in his chest and a bit lower. “Then I find out that she’s not just  _ some _ girl that he’s been fucking around with when he goes up north. No. She’s his wife. They’ve been married for five goddamn years. They have two kids.” Nick rubbed the back of a hand over his mouth. “So  _ I’m _ the other woman… I’m his side-hoe.”

 

He still didn’t really know what to do with this knowledge. Drinking last night had helped. Had helped just as much as coffee and talking wasn’t helping now.  

 

Nick reached over and took one of the breakfast sandwiches, unwrapping the crinkly paper that was already stained through with grease. “So that’s it… like I said. It’s a lot of nothing. You’re making a big deal about nothing.”

 

Sam didn’t seem to have any response to that. No verbal one, at least. But he was up out of his seat, coming around the table and without so much as a warning, he was wrapping his long arms about Nick’s shoulders. Hugging him like he was comforting a small child. So tight that for a moment it was hard to breathe. 

 

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Nick choked out, attempting to struggle free and finding that he couldn’t.

 

“You want to tell me where to find him,” he whispered against the top of his head, “I’ll break all his bones.”

 

“No, Sam.” As nice as that sounded, it wouldn’t actually fix anything. 

 

“I could just rough him up a bit.”

 

Nick sighed, slowly relaxing into the unwanted embrace. “I sent his wife a few of the compromising pictures that I had of me and him together, and she’s going to do a lot worse to him than you’d ever be able to.”

 

“You don’t know what I could do to him.”

 

Something in the rumble of Sam’s voice, the way that his breath tickled over Nick’s skin like a living thing, left him shivering and searching for the right thing to say. “I do know that I talked to that woman for nearly an hour, and she’s going to give him such unimaginable hell. Anything I could come up with as revenge would just be childish and weak by comparison.”

 

Sam’s mouth rested against his hair. Not a kiss. Just close and warm and comforting.

 

Nick had no idea that he’d needed anything so simple, or stupid. And he wanted to push the man off and fortify himself against such softness, but it was obvious how much stronger Sam was than him, and how there would be no sense in fighting it. So Nick leaned into it. Closing his eyes and lightly resting his hands over the man’s arms.  

 

“This is stupid.” He mumbled finally. If nothing else, all cradled against Sam’s chest like he was, Nick found it impossible to eat his food.

 

Sighing, Sam gave him one last squeeze and his arms slipped away. “You deserve so much better than someone like that.”

 

“I’m a miserable bastard. I attract miserable bastards. It’s not really surprising anymore.” He sighed. Not particularly sad. He’d never been all that sad about any of it. It hurt just the same though, and with any luck it would fade fast and Nick could just tuck it into the back of his closet like all the previous fucking calamitous past relationships that he’d had.  

 

Sam hadn’t returned to his side of the table though, he was just towering over Nick with a look on his face as if he meant to fix all the problems of the world.

 

The goal had been to share just enough that Sam would realize how much of ‘not a big deal’ that this was. Not to get all the sympathy. “Don’t look at me like that. I told you I’m fine, and I’m fine.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Promise.” Nick drew a little X over the center of his chest with one finger. “Cross my heart.”

 

Whether he took his word for it or not was hard to tell. All Nick knew for sure was that when Sam leaned down over him, hand sliding along his neck and mouth fitting over his own, it was every bit like standing on railway tracks, watching a train barreling down on him. Unavoidable and debilitating. Terrifying.

 

Exciting.

 

Nick kissed back until the obvious mistake of it felt too overwhelming. Pulling away wasn’t as simple as telling himself that he needed to though. For some reason pushing Sam off didn’t come near as easily as sliding his hands over the younger man’s shoulders. Half rising from his seat to find a better angle.

 

Quick and rough, and over all too soon. When Sam spoke it was hardly a whisper, their lips still touching, careful and soft as if they were sharing a secret. “I’m sorry.”

 

He opened his eyes enough to realize that they were far too close to actually look at each other. “Sorry?”

 

“Moment of weakness.” Sam took a healthy step back, grinning and watching Nick’s mouth more than Nick himself. “Lost my head… sorry.”

 

And the kissing didn’t feel like something that anyone should apologize for. Sam could have made out on a competitive level if he’d wanted to, and there was no shame in that. Nick was still tingling like he’d touched a livewire. His heart racing. But perhaps… perhaps as friends, and that his brother had already called dibs, and seeing that not enough time had even passed for the other side of his bed to cool off, maybe there were better things that they could be getting up to. 

 

“Thanks... for the food.” He lightly slapped a hand around on the table until he found his sandwich again. “You’ll make someone a fine wife one day.” Nick was adrift in a sea of not-ok, and struggling to find anything that would keep him afloat. Sass was a familiar liferaft.

 

“Rude,” Sam laughed and finally went back to his own seat. “So rude.” 

 

“It’s all part of my charm.” Nick winked over a bite of food.

 

“You have no charm. Now finish up your food before I change my mind,” was all that he said before pulling out his phone and picking back up his coffee.

 

And honest, Nick couldn’t tell if he was happy about his decision to focus on eating, or if he regretted his quiet acceptance of Sam’s threat. As tempting as it was.

 

This was man here was not a man for him. 

 

It was important for Nick to remind himself of that sometimes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is it so satisfying writing these doffuses and just normal people? All the potential violence and horror have a deep place in my heart, but this?   
> it's good too. Even if there is no hearty over arching plot, and this story is just a simple 'this boy here likes this boy there'- which is basically about as substantial as opting out of a steak dinner to sit at home and eat a can of rainbow sprinkles. It is a little spot of something nice and it's so satisfying and fun to write.   
> I'm glad you guys are enjoying it too <3

“I like him.” Castiel said softly, and not for the first time. 

 

Words like that crippled something inside of Nick as he did his best to focus on drawing tomorrow’s offerings on the menu board with a chalk pen, instead of the little glimpses of Sam that could be caught through the storefront windows. The man had the hood of Nick’s car up, hunkered down over the engine block as he did something with the timing belt. It had been nearly a month since they’d kissed, and neither of them had had the nerve to bring it back up- same as Nick hadn’t had the guts to mention it to his little brother. 

 

“He’s handy to have around.” Cassy nodded, agreeing with himself. “Just last week he fixed the leaky faucet in the kitchen for me. Which is more than you do around here.”

 

“If you like him so much, why don’t you marry him?” Which was completely petty and childish, but Nick wasn’t much better than that even on good days. 

 

“I hardly think that that would be an appropriate match.” He shook his head, coming away from the window to rearrange the pies and cakes in the case. “If we were to hug, my face would be in his belly button.”

 

Nick barked a laugh. “Ok, he’s not that much taller than you.” He looked down from where he was kneeling up on the counter to help reach the sign better. “And Cassy, if sasquatch out there gets you all hot and bothered then go ahead and talk to him about it. Man like that appreciates directness.”

 

Coming up out of the case with a bewildered look on his face, his little brother stared up at him. “My feelings for Sam are strictly platonic, Nick. He does not make me feel hot, or bothered.”

 

Anyone else, Nick would have accused of lying. But that wasn’t Castiel’s style. He’d never been very good at it. So if he said that he didn’t have a thing for Sam, then he didn’t have a thing for Sam. Which was just a weird concept. One that Nick wasn’t ready to accept seeing as the fact that he’d been laboring under the impression that his brother liked that man for months. Which was the main reason that Nick hadn’t ever revisited that moment that he and Sam had shared. 

 

His brother deserved someone happy, and friendly, and kind like Sam. Nick did not. Nick would only find a way to ruin a man like that. He’d been rather content with the decision to stand aside and let adorable awkward nature take it’s course. 

 

A plan that, though would have been uncomfortably adorable once it worked out, suddenly had no place at all in this.

 

Nick bit the end of his pen, frowning as he scrambled to collect all these assumptions that he’d simply taken for granted as facts. “But didn’t you at some point say you liked his face and wanted to pet it?”

 

Paraphrasing at its best seemed to confuse Castiel, and he made a face as he struggled to make any connection. “I believe I said something closer to that it was a good face and that would look nice between your hands.”

 

“What the hell does that even mean?”

 

Castiel looked so annoyed at having to continue to explain himself. “That you and him would be aesthetically pleasing couple. You’re both tall. He’s conventionally attractive, and you are… you… and you would complement one another nicely.”

 

Though it wasn’t an uncommon feeling to have when his brother was attempting to explain himself, Nick felt like he was taking crazy pills. “So… when you said ‘your hands’ you meant  _ my  _ hands?”

 

“Yes.” He shook his head. “That’s why I used the word  _ your _ .” There was a hint of frustration, like Castile was being forced to speak to an intentionally difficult child and just barely keeping it together. “Things would be so much more simple if you just listened to me the first time that I said things.”

 

There was a certain level of acceptance deep in all older siblings. Knowing full well that your family member is insane and that if they were not related to you through blood then you actively be avoiding them like  plague. So when he said it, Nick said it with all the love in the world, “you’re so weird about some things.”  

 

“I am weird about everything.” Castiel slid the pastry case closed and walked into the back, “don’t read too much into it.”

 

Strange little brother that he was, Nick didn’t think that he’d ever really understand him. Wasn’t sure if he needed to. 

 

He clamored down from the countertop, careful not to trip over his apron strings. Mumbling to himself as he tossed the chalk pen in the drawer. He heard the bell over the front door, and didn’t even bother to turn to see Sam. Not right now. There was too much going on in Nick’s mind and he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to keep all those thoughts from his face. “Everything shipshape and good to go?”

 

“Don’t know about that, love,” came the warm, drawling sort of answer that made Nick’s spine go rigid. “But you’re welcome to come over here and check.” 

 

Even though going into the kitchen and getting out a knife sounded like the best option, Nick stood his ground. Turning with painful slowness to look over the counter at Balthazar. Not sweet, kind Sam. No. It was two bit timing, son of a bitch, couldn’t keep it in his pants, if he was talking then he was probably lying, Balthazar. 

 

He looked the same as he usually did. Comfortable in his own skin. Smug for no noticeable reason. Pleasantly rumpled like someone had recently screwed him up against a wall. With that smile that never failed to do bad things to Nick and his already weak defenses. 

 

And the bastard knew it. The smile on his face as he looked Nick over said that he knew it so very well. “I left messages but you never called me back.”

 

Of course he hadn’t called back- because Nick knew that talking to this man would only lead to two possible outcomes. The first was jail time for assault and battery. The second was angry sex. And both were very bad for oddly similar reasons. “We’re closed.”

 

“Come on. Don’t be like that.” He came over, leaning against the pastry case and playing with the edge of his lip. “I’ve got to say, I really missed you and that come hither pout of yours.” 

 

“Get out.” Careful, small words were all that Nick really felt he could give. The dull ache of betrayal had mostly died out weeks and weeks ago. But that didn’t seem to stop the wave of bitterness that he felt just being so close to this man again. Nick wanted to grab him by the collar of his stupid Vneck shirt and slam his head into the counter. That smile though. That toothy, shameless grin went right through Nick and rather quickly he found that the only images that he could summon up involved the way that their bodies fit together. Balthazar’s knees notched up over his hips while they would kiss in the early mornings before they had to say goodbye and go to their respective jobs.

 

“I was sort of hoping that we could talk.” Balthazar slowly drew a line over the countertop with one finger. “Like I said, I’ve missed you.”

 

Oh, and Nick was caving like a house of cards. All good self preserving intentions shot to hell.

 

Luckily for him, he had a gentle voice of reason that happened to manifest in the form of a tshirt and jeans wearing goliath of a man. 

 

Sam came in, and there was a bit of dark grease smeared over his cheek as well as smudges on his hands and up to his elbows. Despite the fact that he looked like he’d been rolling around beneath the car there was just something clean and fresh to Sam that Balthazar did not have. Nick wouldn’t have called it an innocence necessarily. But when Sam looked over there at the two of them and smiled it was with some inherent goodness and ease that frankly wasn’t present in the other men in the room.    

 

“Friend of yours?” Sam came over, curious look about him as he wiped a hand clean on his jeans before holding it out to Balthazar. “Hi, I’m Sam.”

 

“You’re  _ the  _ Sam?” Balthazar sized the much taller man up, and didn’t take the offered hand. “Nick, when you’d told me that you’d hired someone to help out you and your dusty little brother, you didn’t mention that he was half moose.” 

 

Sam’s smile didn’t leave, but it got a bit tighter. 

 

“Nick, love, come take a walk with me. I’m sure your little boy-toy here can finish closing up for you.” Such a offer- especially since every walk that they’d ever taken during the course of their messy relationship had been up the stairs to Nick’s apartment… they didn’t usually make it as far as the bed.

 

Nick was a man of simple pleasures. And his ex was both simple and rather pleasurable. 

 

“Go back home to your wife, you son of a bitch. I’m done with you.” Which was one of the hardest things that he’d ever had to say- and Nick was fairly positive that he’d only been able to get that far because of the fact that he had to be accountable to not just himself, but also to Sam.

 

“Oh, you’re not still upset about  _ that _ , are you?

 

And Nick had never strangled a man before, but he thought that perhaps today might be a good day to start. His mood must have been obvious because the other two men in the room shrank away from him slightly. 

 

“I guess you are.” Balthazar sighed and then shrugged it off in the same way he would have with the latest football scores. “Suit yourself. You know how to find me when you change your mind.” And the bastard blew a kiss before leaving.

 

Silently, Sam got out the door keys and locked up to make sure that no one else would be able to slip in. “You know, I hate to say that a bag of dicks like that was right- but I  _ can  _ actually clean up for you tonight. If you want to do anything other than stand there looking two seconds away from armageddon.”

 

“I… I’m going to go get a drink.” And by drink he meant that he had every intention of spending the rest of his evening lying on his floor, watching old _Miami Vice_ episodes, while nursing a bottle of whiskey. A plan that would have worked much better for him if half an hour into his self indulgent pity party, Sam hadn’t let himself into the apartment, and sat down on the floor beside him. 

 

Protectively, Nick held onto his bottle, not at all trusting the sudden company. “What do you want?”

 

“I decided that I don’t want to run the front counter all by myself again tomorrow, and just figured that you might drink a little less if you weren't drinking alone.”

 

Drinking alone was not the problem here. “This is mine,” Nick curled around the bottle, knowing now that he hadn’t been wrong in his suspicions, and wanting to make damn sure that they were on the same page. “And if you try and take it from me I will  hurt you.”

 

Shaking his head, Sam rumbled something that might have been a laugh. “That sounds fair and in no way like an overreaction.”

 

“You know what? You can go bite your own ass.” Nick wasn’t quite drunk yet, but the world was warm and soft around the edges and he didn’t like the idea of anyone, not even Sam, trying to mess it up for him. “You would know me overreacting if you saw it. This is not it. This is fine. This is healthy.”

 

“This is… sharing?” Folded up on himself and looking oddly small, Sam eyed the bottle.

 

“That’s cute that you would even think that.” Really quite charming in its naivety.  “But no. I’m not sharing with you. You can go to hell.”

 

“I’m not going to be able to get through _Miami Vice_ stone cold sober.” Sam said it like a commonly known fact, like he didn’t believe anyone capable of such a feat.

 

Nick saw it as an opportunity to chase off the uninvited company. He didn’t want a drinking companion. But he also didn’t want to be alone… so he shared the bottle. Keeping a stranglehold around the neck of it, he was willing to let Sam’s hand guide his from time to time to pour a little into one of their mouths or the other. 

  
  


An attempt was made. A strong attempt, on Nick’s part, pay attention to the episode. Or even to focus on the way that Sam’s hand fit over his so warmly, little lines of sweat where their fingers overlapped. Or the way that the younger man never let Nick drink quite as deeply as he intended when he raised the bottle to his lips. Or the perfectly steady eye contact that Sam would make whenever it was his turn to take a shot. The way that his thumb hooked over the thin bones of Nick’s wrist. 

 

But no. Always clamoring its way back to the front of things was Balthazar. It was the memory of those familiar hands against his skin that Nick couldn’t shake. It was  _ his _ mouth that kept resurfacing in his thoughts.

 

It wasn’t fair.

 

“He’s not worth it, you know.” Sam said so softly as the credits rolled and the snazzy music played between episodes. He must have been a bit of a mind reader.  “No man named  _ Balthazar _ ,” he put on the same emphasis that you would with a dirty word, “has ever been worth it.”

 

“I know he’s a complete jackass…” he’d known it since they first time they met, “but he was  _ my _ jackass.”

 

“No,” Sam said like an apology. “He wasn’t.”

 

Not a fact that needed to be pointed out right now, and the reminder only drummed up a need to hit something. Nick settled for gently putting a hand to the side of Sam’s head and shoving as hard as he could, feeling very satisfied as he watched the man willfully fall over even if he didn’t have to. 

 

Then Nick found that he just enjoyed looking at Sam and the way that he layed there on his side with his legs curled at strange angles. Cheeks a little ruddy from the alcohol. Stupid smile on his stupid face as he watched Nick over the curve of his shoulder. 

 

“You were,” Sam looked to be concentrating a little too hard, “really beautiful today.”

 

_ Beautiful _ ? And he’d been called many things over the years, but none quite so inappropriate. What started as a surprised chuckle turned into an almost hysterical laugh that Nick felt deep in his chest.  

 

“I mean… that man wanted to bang you like a snare drum, and you told him to go to hell.” Sam propped himself up on an elbow, grinning and shaking hair from his face. “You were stone cold.”

 

And that was hard to hear, because to be honest Nick still felt gutted from the effort. As much as he liked to tell himself that he was already dead inside, he’d been with Balthazar for over two years, and you don’t stay with someone that long because they’d be easy to say goodbye to.

 

He’d be fine though. He was always fine. Today was just one step forward, two steps back. 

 

“Nick?” One of Sam’s long legs made it’s way over. Poking him with the toe of his shoe. “Hey, man. You ok?”

 

“I think you’re drunk.” Nick made himself look up at the ceiling. “You let that pretty mouth of yours run too much when you’re drunk.”

 

“I’m not drunk,” Sam’s foot nudged him again, finding his hip bone with stunning accuracy. 

 

Nick grabbed the man’s ankle and held his leg still. “Unless you’re looking to start something, you best keep yourself to yourself.”

 

The smile that Sam wore said that he found something rather tempting in those words, which was confusing seeing as Nick couldn’t say what sort of something might get started from those sharp little kicks. Even slightly sloshed, there was no doubt in his mind that Sam could ruin him. In really any way that he wanted to.

 

Luckily, it seemed that there were other things on the man’s mind.  “Does it have to be Miami Vice? This was bad when it was made, and it hasn’t aged well.”

 

“You want something different then you get up off that fantastic ass of yours and put on something different.”

 

So Sam did. Apparently not able to handle the pastels and funky music over car chases any longer. He found a nice movie for them to watch, something less than a decade old and with lots of explosions. And then Sam came back over and actually sat on the couch, using it for its intended purpose, unlike Nick who still just wanted it for a backrest to hold him upright where he was comfortably on the floor. 

 

Comfortably, right up until Sam slid sideways, settling in right behind him. Knees and long legs flanking Nick’s sides in a warm and very strange sort of embrace. 

 

Letting his head fall back, Nick was barely able to make out the other man somewhere above him. “Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

He rocked his head from side to side, feeling Sam’s knees connect with his temples. “This.” Instantly, Nick found that he missed the movement, so he went back to rocking his head into the other man’s legs. “Why is this? Why are you hugging my shoulders with your stilts?” 

 

With the strangest answer imaginable, Sam curled down over him, kissing his forehead with an obnoxious  _ smack _ sound. “I just wanted to be close… but I’m worried what I might do if I stay down there with you.”

 

If a hypothetical situation ever sounded interesting, that there was it. 

 

‘Starting something’ had begun to sound more and more plausible- though Nick wouldn’t have been willing to bet money on what that something was going to be, or if they both had the same sort of something in mind. 

 

“Sam…” clarification wouldn’t have been as nice as simply putting in a request. “What if I asked you to just… just hold me down and make me forget all about that son of a bitch who sauntered in here earlier?” It was hard to keep eye contact with the man so oddly placed behind him without arching at a slightly unnatural angle. “You seem to me like you’d make one hell of a top, and I could really use a good distraction tonight.” 

 

For good or bad, the offer got Sam laughing. 

 

And, for good or bad, Nick kept going. “Is that a yes, a no, or a rain check?”

 

Wiping imaginary tears from his eyes Sam shook his head.

 

“That’s fair.” Nick sighed, slumping back against the couch and just closing his eyes. “I probably would tell me no too.” Which was such a simple statement that he very, very much had not intended to say out loud.

 

Almost didn’t even realize that he had, right up until both of Sam’s hands carded through his hair, catching his attention very deliberately. 

 

“Nick,” and as casual as if he did it every day, Sam kissed his forehead again, though a little softer this time. “You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for. You deserve better than a guy like that- and I deserve better than quick pity fuck between friends after too much to drink.”

 

The man didn’t mince words. 

 

Something that Nick really actually liked about him.

 

“You’re too damn rational for someone who’s drunk.” Which was mostly observation, but partially a compliant. 

 

And Sam grinned like a twice shot fox. “I could drink you under the table any day of the week, old man.” His fingers tangled their way through Nick’s hair, “but not tonight. Tonight we watch  _ Genesis _ and pretend that you’re fine, and that I’m fine, and that we’re both doing just awesome.”

 

It wasn’t a bad offer.

 

In fact, it was probably the best offer that Nick was going to get tonight.

 

“Does this deal include me keeping my drinky-drink?” It was the only stipulation that Nick really cared about right now. Everything else was really neither here nor there and would be forcibly forgotten by morning.

 

“You drink as much as you need and I’ll hold your hair when you’re puking your guts out in a few hours.”

 

Humming softly, Nick tossed down a mouthful of bottom shelf whiskey, letting it burn clean in his throat and fill his chest with something lovely and familiar and warm. With Sam wrapped around him, and fire within, Nick settled down. Feeling that maybe pretending to be ok for tonight wouldn’t be as hard as he’d thought. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a nice short chapter for today's offering- because some of you need a bit less to read in your early mornings when you should be taking showers and drinking your coffee before work... you know who you are

Sam was calling. 

 

Sam didn’t usually call. 

 

He pretty much never called, he just talked to Nick when he came into work. And most likely to was nothing, but Nick’s mind was quick to present him all sorts of emergency situations that would be eliciting this odd hour call, and he couldn’t help but frown as he answered the phone. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Quick and to the point.

 

And Sam seemed to find that rather charming because he laughed over the line. “Nothin’. I’m fine.”

 

Fine? 

 

Who is fine and makes late night phone calls just to make sure that everyone knows about it?

 

So Nick just looked at his phone, waiting for some kind of explanation. They weren't teenaged girls. They weren't going to giggle and talk about boys. And if the other man wasn’t injured there didn’t seem to be any other explicable reason for him to be calling. 

 

“I… I really need to get out of the house for a bit.” Sam kind of fumbled even though there was an obvious smile in his voice. “Was wondering if you were still awake. Maybe you wanted to walk with me. Keep me safe from muggers.”

 

The clock on the microwave said it wasn’t quite ten yet. Tomorrow was Sunday. Nick didn’t have to go down to work, so he could stay up a bit later than his usual unreasonably early bed time. “Yeah. Um… you want to come here or am I going out to you.”

 

“I’ll come over. I’m already out.”

 

“K... “ Nick sat up, rubbing a hand over his face and then wincing because his hands were not clean and he instantly had regrets. 

 

“See you in about ten?” Sam didn’t know though, so he kept on solidifying their plans.

 

“Yeah. See you.” He hung up and tossed his phone back into his pile of clothes from where he’d fished it out once it had started ringing. Ten minutes wasn’t all that much time- but it would be enough for him to get a quick shower. 

 

God, but he needed a shower.

 

“Off.” He nudged at Balthazar who was still lounging against him despite the fact that Nick was trying to get up off the kitchen floor. 

 

“He calls and you leave. Just like that?” The man looked up from his own phone where he was tending to something that looked like work emails. Eyes lidded and dark. “How... cute.”

 

Their moment had passed though, and Nick wasn’t interested. “Shut up and get out.”

 

“Don’t I get a complimentary shower before I’m shoved out like some cheap whore?” 

 

“It won't be your first walk of shame.” Nick separated out his clothes from his ex’s and tossed the unwanted ones at the man’s smug face. “Won’t be your last either. Now get dressed and don’t forget your jacket again. I don’t want you coming back tomorrow with another half assed excuse.”

 

Balthazar chuckled, such a dark and warm sound as he loosely gathered up the pants and shirt that had hit him. “Half assed? I love that jacket… and we both know that you’re looking forward to my next excuse.” And the bastard kissed his cheek, one hand sliding down Nick’s chest to trail over the thin line of hair that started below his belly button. “I always have the best excuses.”

 

Naked on the kitchen floor, still a little dazed and more than a little sticky, was pretty far past the point of protesting. You can’t put toothpaste back in the tube, and you can’t un-fuck your ex. Tonight was a dark mark on Nick’s  already very dirty track record. But still, he caught the other man’s hand before it could do too much more damage. “Just get out.”

 

“You going to remember to think about me while you’re with your new boy-toy?” Balthazar was nothing if not relentless. He twisted his hand in Nick’s grip, grinning when he realized he couldn’t pull away, and instead sliding into Nick’s lap so that they could look each other in the eye. “I wonder how he’s measuring up so far?”

 

“Wow. We are  _ not _ doing this.” By which Nick meant that he really, really couldn't do this. He could already feel himself teetering on a rather spiney edge. 

 

“No?” Amused at the too late dismissal, Balthazar caught him up in a slow kiss. All tongue and teeth and soft moaning like they were in an R movie that was determined to earn it’s rating. Then he was grinning, pushing their foreheads together like he used to do. So close and painfully nostalgic. “We’ve already done it twice tonight. What’s one more for the road?”

 

For a moment Nick sort of forgot about Sam, and leaving, and why he hated this man sitting here in his lap. But he wasn’t a forgiving sort of man, and that went a long way to helping him keep himself on track. “We’re not doing this either.”

 

“No?” 

 

“No.” He got his hands on Balthazar’s shoulders and slid him away, keeping him at arm’s length. Focusing so hard on those clear and angry feelings that were always so quick to abandon him when he needed them most. “Because I hate you. You’re a lying bastard, and I hope you die alone of some kind of painful, sexually transmitted disease.”

 

Balthazar laughed though. He looked beautiful when he laughed, especially with his hair a mess and his eyes still hungry, mouth bruised around an easy grin. 

 

Nick really hated him. 

 

Hatred was a great motivator, and he was grateful for it as he got to his feet, looking down at the object of his disdain. “If you’re not out of here by the time I’m done in the shower I am going to throw you out of the window.”   

 

Still laughing, but finally pulling his pants on, he grinned up at Nick. “You tease.”

 

“I swear to god, Balthazar. I swear. If I never see you again it will be too soon.”

 

.:.

The bane of his existence was gone by the time he had scrubbed himself clean and put on clothes that didn’t smell like sin. It felt almost like things were going his way, right up until he went downstairs and saw Sam waiting for him.

Sam was a good thing ninety percent of the time. But Sam was watching Balthazar’s car drive away. Hands in his pockets and a complicated look on his face. And that was not good.

It was the opposite of good.

Nick chose to try and ignore that fact. “Where’re we going, sweetheart?”

Looking a bit startled, Sam turned and frowned. Not an angry look, just something a little sad, a little confused, a little five kinds of bad. “Nowhere.”

“You get me out of bed in the middle of the night to go nowhere?” It’s not that Nick was complaining, but they needed a bit of a rhyme or reason to it all, or it was going to get real uncomfortable real fast. 

“Just walk with me.” Sam directed as if someone had put in charge of things. 

So they walked. It was a good night for it. Clear sky aside from the millions of stars. Warm breeze. And Nick lived in a decent neighborhood, which was to say that it was mostly high end shops, metered parking, and well manicured trees that gave way to pricey upscale condos where most people went to bed at fairly reasonable hours. So it was quiet out. They had the street to themselves, and Nick found it a bit too tempting and easy to veer off the sidewalk and just walk down the dotted strip in the center of the deserted road.

“Thanks for coming out. I know that you’re not big on talking about  _ things _ ,” Sam’s voice carried a little too well, “but I’ve got some family stuff going on and kind of… I don’t know. Thought it would be easier to sort them out with someone else here.”

“Go for it.” He would welcome such a nice distraction.

“After the little talk I had with your ex a few minutes ago, you sure you’re not the one who needs to vent a bit?” 

It was really just fantastic that Nick wasn’t capable of making a single mistake that he could keep to himself. No. Everyone whose opinion mattered to him apparently needed to know what wagon he’d fallen off of, so that they could get all judgmental, or worried, or whatever the hell Sam was doing with this information that he shouldn’t have. 

“Well, knowing Balthazar, I’m sure he did a spectacular job summing up the highlights of tonight’s fuck-ups. I doubt there’s anything left for me to add.” Nick couldn’t keep from grinning. It was a panic sort of response that didn’t help but couldn’t be helped. 

Sam shrugged and watched where he was walking for a few steps too many as he openly struggled for what he wanted to say. “He told me a few things that… really weren't any of my business.” 

And Nick thought that that was probably the nicest way to put it. “And you’re still thinking about them, aren’t you? Naughty, naughty, Sam.”

“It’s kind of hard not to.” He shrugged again, looking sideways at Nick from where he was still responsibly on the sidewalk. “And I’d like to just tell myself that he’s lying- but you… I’ve never seen any one look quite so satisfied and still disgusted with themselves at the same time.”

Which meant that it was Nick’s turn to shrug. “He came to get a jacket that he’d left… I lost my nerve.” Once on the stairs on the way up to his apartment, and then again while bending his ex over the kitchen counter. “ ‘m not proud of it. But we all make mistakes… and my mistake today happened to be a six foot tall cocky bastard who knows how to push all my buttons.”

Sam watched him, it made walking in a straight line difficult and he sort of drifted in and out of the dip of the gutter. “That’s rough,” he finally said. 

And that was putting it nicely.

The broken yellow line felt very much like a plank that Nick was walking down. Nothing good was waiting for him at the end of this, so he dragged his feet a bit, not really sure what else to say that hadn’t just been covered.

“So are…” Sam seemed hesitant to even ask, but he frowned to himself and pressed on,  “are you two back together now?”  

“No!” Nick couldn’t help but throw up a little in the back of his mouth at the mere idea. “God no. I had a brief moment of weakness. Not a psychotic break.” 

Even with the distance between them, the look of utter sympathy on the other man’s face was hard to miss.

Sympathy was not what Nick wanted though. He didn’t particularly feel like he deserved it, seeing as he’d made all these lovely bad choices all on his own. Mistakes were made and he planned to own them. “That’s enough about me for one night, don’t you think? Tell me your sad story, you beautiful son of a bitch. Give me something to worry about other than myself.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter, but I sort of love this one so I'm not going to apologize )
> 
> also, not to super overshare, finally got some good news and I just feel amazing today.   
> Long story short, my youngest brother was recently diagnosed with a connective tissue disorder that usually causes massive heart failure in people by the time they turn 30- best case scenario from this diagnosis was at least 1 heart surgery. And my little man hasn't even had his 15th birthday yet.   
> But he got back from the cardiologist yesterday and so far the damage to his heart is minor! so at least for the next few years they aren't cutting open my man-cabbage. It's such a relief that I may have cried a little... big grown up tears, or course, because big sisters have to set good examples.   
> but yes. Thumbs up and high-fives, and thank you guys for just being distant but solid moral support while I'm flopping around out here.   
> I got a couple quiet messages from a few of you here and there and it means so much TT  
> I'm honestly happy that we all found each other.  
> You guys are amazing.

Nick did not think of himself as a particularly giving, or forgiving, or even kind person. What was that saying? Something about not being one to suffer fools lightly? Apparently Sam was an enormous exception to this little personality flaw though. And Nick didn’t know what made this giant of a man an exception. Only that he really, really was.

 

That’s why they were sharing an ice cream cone. And if anyone wanted to challenge this particularly peculiar choice in action then Nick was willing to to fight them.  He wanted some ice cream, Sam needed some ice cream, and fuck everyone else.

 

Licking a slow stripe around the rim of the cone before handing it over to Sam, Nick sighed, “so… he’s not really your uncle, and she’s not really your aunt?”

 

“No, but he raised me, and Ellen’s husband was kind of a friend of my dad’s so she’s always just sort of been around.” He frowned at the ice cream in the wake of Nick’s exploratory tasting, but still ate some, leaving a little smear of chocolate on the corners of his mouth. 

 

“So they’re adoptive family,” at this point the man beside him had sort of been inducted into that nebulous family _ ish _ category. When, Nick couldn’t say. Only knew that it had happened in an oddly irrevocable feeling way. “I get that. What I don’t get is why you’ve got your panties in such a twist about it. They’re both adults, so let them do adult things to each other.”

 

Sam looked horrified at the suggestion, to the point that he almost dropped the ice cream. 

 

A lovely moment that Nick couldn’t just let slip by. “Old people have needs too, Sam… sexy needs.”

 

“Oh my god.” Sam turned his face skyward and swore. “ Why? Why did I think I could talk to you about this?”

 

“Poor judgement? Who knows-  _ give _ ,” he wiggled his fingers until their snack was passed his way. “I mean, look at your hair, obviously your priorities are bit off.”

 

“ _ Wow _ .” He shook his head, keeping pace with Nick on those long legs of his. “Just wow.”

 

“Look, I get it. Really. But if you care about them, and it sounds like you do, then be happy for them being happy.” Not at all accustomed to giving advice, it was the best advice he could come up with. “Life is too short and too full of shit to let yourself get upset over whether or not you agree with what makes other people happy. They’re happy. That should be more than enough.”

 

And those words seemed to strike a chord with Sam, because he shut up for almost two blocks. Finally saying in a rather subdued way, “that’s surprisingly zen coming from you.”

 

Nick laughed at what might have been intended as an insult. “Hey, you know me. I’m incredibly enlightened over here. Zen is my middle name.”

 

“You’re an actual walking, talking mess.” Sam took back the ice cream. “But… thanks.”

 

He shrugged it off. It was just ice cream. Cost him a whole dollar for a double scoop.

 

“For listening.” Came the clarification. “And for walking with me. I was crawling the walls at home.”

 

With a stunning show of restraint, Nick did not offer to let Sam ‘climb his walls’ instead. The innuendo might not be well received. Just because he was still in a strange happy-afterglow/violently-disgusted-with-his-own-choices kind of mood, didn’t mean that Sam should be made to suffer for it.   

 

“We just going to keep walking into the night until you can outrun the image of your old relatives  _ in delicto flagrante,  _ or do we have a destination in mind?” 

 

Sam’s lip curled and he gave Nick such a long and dirty look. “They had  _ one _ date, stop making it dirty.”

 

Proud of himself for really getting under the other man’s skin, Nick enjoyed the last few bites of ice cream cone. Crunching loudly, before sucking the sticky residue from his fingers. He caught Sam watching him and slowly held out his empty hand, “I’m sorry, did you want some?”

 

“I’ll pass.”

 

“Your loss. I’m delicious.” And he went back to cleaning his fingers of the last few remainders of ice cream.

 

And it was not an amused look that Sam gave him, but then again, people didn’t always enjoy Nick as much as they should.

 

No word spoken between them, they sort of communally detoured into a little neighborhood park with a sign that clearly said that the premises was closed after dark. But they were both rebel hearts like that with no respect for the authority of signage. Nick went straight to the swingset and planted himself, letting his legs drag deep furrows in the pale colored wood chips. 

 

Sam resisted though. Sam was strong. “Don’t you think you’re a little big for that?” And responsible. 

 

To which Nick could only grin and wobbly push himself from side to side in wide arcs, far too tall to swing properly on playground equipment made for five year olds.

 

For a while Sam just stood there beside the play set, looking like some kind of strange Godzilla who was debating wrecking in the funnest little Tokyo possible. 

 

“Come on,  _ Sammy _ . There’s room for one more...” Nick urged in a soft sing-song, reaching out towards one of the other swings and shaking the chains lightly. “No one’s watching, and you know you want to.”

 

“I would break it.”

 

“If you do, there’s still no one watching. And who am I going to tell?”  Nick enjoyed playing devil’s advocate, being the voice of temptation.

 

“You’ve really got to stop calling me that.” He grumbled as he cautiously folded himself down into the swing. He looked like ten feet worth of man tucked up in three feet of space. And it was glorious to behold. 

 

So carefully, the man stretched his legs out, holding them horizontal to the ground, gripping the chains along his side like they were lifelines, and just looking so very expectant. Though what he was expecting Nick could only guess at. Slowly, his legs drooped, heels almost kissing the ground as Sam watched him sideways, “you going to push me or not, Nick?”

 

Surprised, all Nick managed to do was sit in his too small swing and blink. 

 

“No one’s watching,” Sam urged with a shadow of a smile that was almost lost in the dark of the playground, “and you know you want to.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters in a day? yeah, why not.
> 
> These updates are slowly getting caught up to where I am still writing- which means that I can ask your honeynut-feelios on what happens in the undetermined future that you don't know about yet but I do because I'm THERE
> 
> -peripheral destiel  
> y/n?
> 
> I can go either way. They just make such an awesome bro-ship that I can't help myself putting them in the same space, but I know that the ship really freaks some people out, and honest, y'all didn't sign up for those men touching each other when you opened this fic, so I figure it's fair to ask

Nick pressed his hands against his jean pockets. Empty aside from his wallet. They were very empty. And he was fairly certain that he’d left his phone back in the apartment, but he knew that he’d had keys at some point because he’d used them to lock up after himself a few hours ago.

 

“Problem, boss?”

 

“I… “ And even less than Nick liked to make an effort to be a decent human, was asking for help. Owing anyone a favor was as bad as being hobbled. It would hang over his head like a curse. “I think my keys fell out back at the park... Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you Tuesday afternoon. Goodnight.”

 

But Sam was looking at him like he’d lost his mind instead of just a set of keys. “No  _ goodnight _ . Come on, I’ll help you look for them.”

 

“It’s late. Go home, Sam.” Nick waved the offer of help away with an impatient flip of his hand.  

 

Stubbornness, or goodwill, or just some misplaced feelings of friendship kept Sam from listening though, and despite Nick’s protests he had company for the walk back to the park. Which was a waste of time, seeing as after about twenty minutes of looking around the park it became obvious that Nick’s keys had passed on to another realm of existence and would never be seen again in this life.

 

Sitting on a bench, propping his elbows on his knees, Sam sighed. “Does your brother have a spare key to your place?”

 

“Castiel? Yeah, but my phone is back in the apartment so I can’t call him.”

 

“I’ve got mine,” oh so very happy to be able to keep on helping, Sam tugged his phone out. “What’s his number?”

 

This was one of the reasons that Nick hated asking for help. “Seven something?”

 

Sam lowered his phone and fixed Nick with a long look. “Seven…  _ something _ ?”

 

“There might be a four in there too… or it could be a three.” He played with the edge of his lip to buy time, but it wasn’t helping. “ _ What _ ? I’m not good with remembering numbers. That’s why I have them saved in my phone... I bet you don’t know your brother’s phone number either.”

 

Seemingly out of spite, Sam rattled off a long string of numerals without hesitation. “I also know the shop number, and my uncle’s house number, and his cell too.”

 

“Show off.”

 

Sam rubbed a hand over his face and it made it hard to tell if he was smiling or not. “Does Cas live nearby?”

 

It didn’t matter if his younger brother lived half an hour’s drive away or five minutes, because he was absolutely  _ not _ going to let Sam drive him out there. “He’s asleep by now. Don’t worry about it.”

 

They had a staring match in the dark, and Nick wasn’t sure at all who won. They both just eventually found the trees and playground equipment more interesting to look at.

 

“So…” Sam worked the word over slowly before proceeding, “what’s the plan?” 

 

“Seeing as it’s past your bedtime?” Nick took a slow breath, letting it out in a sharp rush. “You go home.”

 

“And you go…?”

 

Did it matter?

 

Why the hell would it matter?

 

“I’ll figure something out.” Nick didn’t have the first idea of what to do, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to share all the nothing that he had.    

 

Then followed more uncomfortable staring that lasted far, far too long before Sam suddenly launched himself to his feet. “Nope.”

 

“...  _ nope _ ?”

 

“You’re coming home with me.”

 

“Like hell I am-”

 

“I’m not letting you sleep in the park or something, Nick.” Sam didn’t seem interested in hearing alternatives. “So come on.”

 

For the record, Nick  _ did _ put up a bit of a fight. He argued- but he argued while Sam lead the way, because it’s hard to tell someone you aren’t going to follow them home like a puppy while they are walking away from you. Nick was forced to keep pace. What choice did he really have?

 

It wasn’t a very two sided argument. Mostly just Nick protesting and from time to time Sam shooting him down with one word answers- and then they were there. Just like that. And in the half a year that they’d know each other Nick had never had a reason to find out where the man lived. He’d just sort of assumed that it was in one of the dorms on campus, which would have made it within walking distance of the bakery. He was wrong though. 

 

They stopped a few blocks past campus, possibly even nearly a mile out, in front of a sprawling old house. The fact that Nick recognised Sam’s car parked on the sidewalk was the only way that he’d realised they were at the right place.

 

“Look at you,” he gestured broadly to the wide porch and two stories worth of colonial architecture. “You did well for yourself.”

 

Sam hushed him and got his keys out, fumbling with the lock in the almost perfect darkness of the porch. “I’m just renting a room. When school’s in session there’s twelve of us living here, but during the summer it’s just me and two other guys.”

 

Even if the other man couldn’t see it, Nick nodded along, following him into a very dark entry way where the vague suggestion of a large hall and curving stairs could be seen.

 

In a hush, Sam turned to him, just sort of a towering dark presence. “We’re not technically allowed to have guests over at night.” Which held an unspoken ‘ _ please don’t cause any trouble’  _ that Nick wasn’t sure he could keep on principle. 

 

But he kept his comments and hands to himself all the way down the hall as he walked on the other man’s heels. Close enough to smell his aftershave. Close enough to bite his shoulder- and that ide sort of proved to Nick that he was a bit past his own bedtime as well. 

 

It was a little more difficult to keep quiet and not accidently wake whatever roommates may be when Nick saw Sam’s ‘room’ though. 

 

“Where’s the rest of it?” He asked in his best library voice, squinting into the light that Sam had turned on.

 

“... this is it.”

 

“This is a glorified closet, not a bedroom.” Nick kept to the doorway, not sure if he could fit in there with Sam and the bed and the short dresser that seemed to double as a desk seeing as it had a folding chair leaning up against it.

 

Not embarrassed, but annoyed, Sam sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s what I can afford. School isn’t cheap.” 

 

“Remind me to start paying you more… can I actually fit in there with you, or am I sleeping out in the hall?”

 

“Don’t be difficult.”

 

“I’m serious here. I think your little room’s at maximum occupancy. I don’t want to go breaking any fire safety codes or-”

 

In testament to the narrow confines of the ‘room’, Sam had nothing more to do than lean forward from where he sat on the bed, and he was able to grab Nick around the waist and pull him in.

 

And ‘in’ really was a loose way of saying that Sam sort of tossed Nick onto the bed beside him with no more notable effort than if he were throwing a book bag.

 

The blankets smelled nice. Kind of clean. Very much like Sam. And Nick lay there on his side, feeling a bit stunned as the slight rocking of the box springs settled. 

 

“I’m not sure if I want to tell you right now just how much you scare me sometimes,” if Nick’s voice came out a bit strange it was only because he was still catching his breath. “Or if I should lay back as seductively as possible and beg you not to be gentle with me.”

 

Sam covered his own mouth to try and smother part of his startled laughter. The little noises he made shaking his shoulders while his eyes danced. “No offence, Nick,” he barely managed to get out, “but you  _ can’t _ do seductive. You’re not built for it.”

 

“How dare you. Just because I’ve never tried doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t just be a natural.” He felt a need to get a little defensive if only to keep up pretenses. And he almost gave it a try, but realized that no. Sam wasn’t wrong. Nick didn’t know the first thing about laying back seductively. He’d never needed to, and tonight didn’t seem like the right time or place to make a first attempt.

 

“Go to sleep Nick. You look exhausted. I’ll drive you to Cas’ in the morning.”

 

He sat up on his elbows, toeing his shoes off and listening to the satisfying thump as they hit the ground. “Yeah, yeah. I feel like it’s fair to warn you though, seeing as you’ve basically kidnapped me with all your good intentions-  I sleep naked.”

 

The suggestion got Sam laughing again. “Not in my bed, you don’t.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These little chapters make more sense in length when the story was being written as just a giant chunk with no chapters in mind. But oh well. 
> 
> I feel like I'm at a park just tossing little chunks of bread to the duckies. I have the whole loaf over here, but you have a little bite instead.

 

“If you’re so bad with numbers, how is it that you ended up being the one to handle all the money?” Sam’s question had some fairly sound, but insulting logic in it.

 

Nick looked up from his receipts, and he had a long way to look, seeing as he was sitting on the floor and Sam was (naturally) towering over him like a spruce. The shade was nice, so he hadn’t complained, but the view was… odd. A lot of thigh. More of Sam’s thigh than he’d bargained for. 

 

And hips. 

 

God, don’t even get him started on those hips.

 

Very pointedly, Nick fixed his eyes on the younger man’s. “Cassy used to be an accountant. He swore off the stuff though and promised himself he’d never go back. And I can’t bake worth shit. So here I am-” he grandly gestured to the careful piles of paper on the floor between his outstretched legs.

 

“Did anyone tell you that there are tables that you could do that at?”

 

“I have my reasons, little Sam-bo.” And he winked, because such good reasons did Nick have for hiding behind the counter like a little coward. And none of them actually lined up with the fact that Sam had to carefully shuffle around him every so often, which meant that Nick got a gentle hand to the side of his head, or a startling brush of knee to his shoulder. Those were just pleasant coincidences.

 

And yes the floor was obviously not the optimum choice here, but before he was even done with half of his accounts for the week his phone started going off. Many texts in quick succession. He only gave his phone a precursory glance before leaning back and shouting, “Cassy, it’s time.”

 

From his low vantage point, Nick got to enjoy the utterly baffled look on Sam’s face which only deepened as Castiel came out of the back room like a storm front “This is childish, Nick.” 

 

Such an accusation. It was almost as if his brother had never met him before.

 

“You are both adults and it would be refreshing to see the two of you actually act like it for once.” Castiel kept on as he wiped his hands off on a towel and shrugged out of his apron. “Refusing to even talk to him is just mean.”

 

Summoning up as much mock horror and pain as possible, Nick pressed a hand over his mouth to hide a gasp. “Oh no. You don’t think I hurt his feelings, do you?”

 

To which his brother gave one of those tight lipped, ‘you’re dead to me’ sort of looks, before he left the store though the front door.

 

Sam, watching it all, rested against the counter with a guardedly neutral expression. “Sending your brother to do your dirty work?”

 

“Castiel is Switzerland.” Nick kept on tallying up sums on his calculator, very pleased with how well everything was working out. “And I don’t mean that he doesn’t pick sides, I mean he’s cold… and to a lesser extent known for his chocolate making. He’s one of the few people I know that doesn’t even bat an eye when Balthazar gets going.”

 

It was obvious how little Sam knew about the whole situation by how unimpressed he looked when finding out about Castiel’s super power.  If only he knew the internal war that waged deep in Nick every damn time he even thought about his ex. Not knowing which would be more satisfying, belting him around the mouth or mouthing him around the belt.

 

He wasn’t interested in sharing these feeling out loud though, because there was no way that Nick could find the words to it that didn’t showcase just how damn weak he was.  

 

Lucky for him words were rather unnecessary when very quickly he found that he had the chance to show off this glorious deficit first hand. 

 

Castiel came back too soon. Especially taking into account the soft sounds of overhead footsteps that could still be heard. And before his brother could get back to the safety of his kitchen, Nick popped his head up over the edge of the counter. 

 

“What the hell is he doing in my apartment?”

 

With a little shrug, Cassy picked back up his apron. “He looked in the box of stuff that you’d left on the stairs for him, but he said some things were missing. I let him go up and look.”

 

Oh, but Nick could feel the murder deep in his chest and wondered if it was showing on his face. 

 

“He is more likely to be able to find what he left than I am.” His brother shrugged it off and went back to work.

 

And all Nick could really do in the face of such logic was sit on his ass, watching the ceiling with mounting suspicion. Wondering if the  man up there was really actually looking for something or if he was just biding his time. 

 

If Nick wasn’t so against asking for help then he might have been able to sweet talk Sam into going up and evicting the unwelcome intruder.

 

Instead he wasted his time pretending to look at receipts while his gaze kept drifting upward and then out to the parking lot where he could still see the man’s car parked like an ill omen. 

“The bastard isn’t leaving.” He cursed under his breath ten minutes in as he collected up his mess of papers and tucked them safely out of the way. Nick stood and braced himself, whispering good advice and he went,  “Just don’t let him talk. He can’t talk you into anything if he can’t talk.”

 

Sam was watching him pass by. Really,  _ really _ watching him. “You… ok there, Nick?”

 

“Peachy.” Obviously, he was just walking on sunshine over here. “I’m going to be right back.”

 

Confidence levels seemed very low in Sam. It was probably why he offered with no hesitancy whatsoever, “you want me to come with? You know, for moral support.”

 

“I’ll be fine.” And Nick wished that he felt it. But he knew himself. 

 

He knew Balthazar. 

 

He knew that the son of a bitch was up there, waiting for him with one of those crooked smiles.

 

Nick could believe in himself for a few seconds though. He only needed a few seconds. That’s all it would take to go up the stairs, grab his ex by the collar and yell at him to get out and stay out.

 

Over half an hour later though, Nick slunk back into the shop. Keeping his head down and quietly collecting back up his receipts and settling himself at a table.  No longer worried that someone might see him through the windows, there was no point in hiding. Balthazar’s car was gone. The damage had been done, he’d had no need to stick around.

 

Sam didn’t say anything for a long time. At first he was helping a few customers, then he was in the back helping Castiel move some things around. And Nick thought to himself that maybe for once he could keep this minor indiscretion close to his chest. 

 

But out of nowhere coffee was placed next to his elbow. Well meaning coffee. 

 

And when Sam gently cleared his throat and made the little side remark that Nick’s shirt was on inside out- it was probably done with the same damning good intentions.

 

Or pity.

 

Or both.

 

Probably both. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another little babby chapter ^^  
> and I'm leaving town for the weekend (woohoo, going to the beach), so next update wont happen until probably Tuesday?? and I feel a bit bad about that since I was enjoying feeling all fancy with an update everyday. But we all knew it couldn't last. Right?

“I’m not saying that you  _ can’t _ over night a pie to South Dakota.” Nick grumbled, getting tired of this conversation already. “I’m saying that it’s going to cost you out the ear to do it, and there’s no way to guarantee that the pie will still be even remotely attractive by the time it gets there.”

 

Frustrated, Sam folded those arms of his over that broad chest. “It’s doesn’t have to  _ look _ pretty, Nick-”

 

“The aesthetics are what give the pies half their mystic properties. You should see Castiel back there weaving the crust into those patterns, chanting and-”

 

“I do not chant into the pies.” Cassy looked up from where he was arranging the new cakes that he’d made that morning. “Please stop telling people that I do.”

 

And Nick knew how to seize an opportunity to veer away from this whole mailing food argument that had been going in circles for far too long. “You spend an awful lot of time talking to the food, Cassy. What exactly am I supposed to tell people that you’re doing?”

 

“I’m… just explaining to the food what my expectations for them are.” He smoothed his hands over his apron, frowning, challenging his big brother to question this tactic.

 

All Nick could do was to look at Sam for moral support. He found none though. The other man was biting his lip to keep from smiling, and very pointedly straightening chairs around one of the tables. 

 

Undeterred, Castiel put in his two cents. “I think it’s a very nice gesture to send his brother a get-well pie.”

 

“He’s not  _ unwell _ , Cassy.”  Nick ran his hands through his hair, hating that they were right back here so quickly. “He broke his arm in a drunken bar brawl. I don’t know if that’s necessarily a sympathy card sort of situation, but it sure as hell isn’t a food giving one.”

 

“Any time is a good time for pie.” Unfortunately it seemed that Castiel had taken Sam’s side in this argument, which meant that it was basically over.

 

“Look, all I’m saying is that for the cost of shipping it out there, he may as well just get in his car and drive it in person.”

 

“I don’t have a car anymore.” Sam said so softly that Nick almost missed it. “Tuition was due for fall semester and I was a bit short on money so…”

 

And before he could really let that little fact sink in his brother was making large decisions rather loudly. “Then Nick and I are happy to pay for shipping.”

 

It was such an easy gesture, but it seemed to stun Sam. “What? No, I couldn’t let you guys-”

 

“We insist.” Castiel ended the conversation by leaving the room, mumbling to himself that he thought cherry pie was best for broken bones.

 

It had been a slow morning, and that meant that Nick and Sam were left with a few minutes of uncomfortable quiet punctuated by strange kitchen noises in the distance.

 

“I’ll pay you back.” Sam finally said soft enough that it wouldn’t carry to the other room. “Just let me know how much it is.”

 

“He’s not going to let you.” Nick leaned on the pastry case, frowning down at the fact that looking up at him was a bright pink cake that looked to be decorated in carefully made butterflies. “You see, he gets real attached real easily. You’re family now. Which means that your brother is extended family. Which means that Cassy’s distant brother has a broken arm and needs a cherry pie.”

 

“It’s got to be cherry?”

 

“Apparently? I mean… yeah. Of course. Everyone knows that cherry pie is a quick cure for all bone ailments as well helping to solve the problem of being a virgin… which is a different kind of  _ bone _ problem. Don’t know if your brother needs help with both, but hey, Cassy’s got him covered.”

 

Sam didn’t laugh, but he did look a bit disappointed, and that was good enough.

 

“And if you still feel bad about tricking my brother into sending free pie to your brother,” Nick held up a hand to quiet Sam’s instant denial, “then come out with me tonight. There’s a new bar downtown that opened a few weeks ago, and they’re supposed to have serve a local beer that won some awards over the summer.”

 

The offered apparently was so unexpected that it took Sam an oddly long time to answer with a confused little “...ok?”

 

For which Nick was grateful, because it meant that he didn’t have to explain that for the past two years he’d always had the same drinking buddy, and before that any time that Nick went out alone to drink he’d always came home with a new friend. It wasn’t a habit that he was quite ready to fall back into just yet. Sam was a good drinking buddy though. He’d already been tested and not found wanting. He would keep Nick from running his mouth off too much. Keep him out of trouble. 

 

Hopefully.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, lovelies.  
> I return to you from the sand and sun, a slightly pinker me- but happy and recharged.
> 
> Have a chapter that fought me and was rewritten from scratch almost 5 times, because usually I accept what happens next as I write, but the boys going out drinking went horribly awry the first few times, and I refused.

Most people weren't cute when they’ve been drinking. They get sort of obnoxious. Loud. Sloppy. Overly friendly. Sam was none of those things.

 

And not just because Nick was overly fond of this guy and that made him oddly forgiving to small faults. It was as simple as the fact that slightly tipsy Sam got all kinds of rosey cheeked and smiled more. Beautiful, bright grins that made the barlight catch in his eyes. Simple as that. Soft around the edges and sort of beautiful as he sat across from Nick sipping on his second gin- a drink choice that had been a bit surprising.

 

“That’s not a real reason.” Sam repeated himself as he traced a finger along the pale ink line that cut down Nick’s right forearm.

 

“ _For fun_ is really the only reason that anyone needs for anything.” It was the reason that he wasn’t answering at least. The longer he stalled the longer it seemed that Sam was going to be carefully exploring his arm with those curious fingers. He liked the touching. The touching was nice.

 

“Not even you would get a tattoo of a lollipop on your arm ‘ _just for fun’._ Were you drunk at the time?”

 

Nick smiled, flexing his wrist and feeling sort of sentimental over the slightly faded ink.  Castiel had the same tattoo on his arm, though he was a fan of sleeves, so it wasn’t surprising that Sam wouldn’t have seen it. A swirly, rainbow colored lollipop that didn’t match any of the other tattoos that Nick had. It was kind of his favorite, though he didn’t really know how to share that with Sam without really ruining the nice night they were having.

 

“It’s… for someone who died.” Was all he could come up with.

 

“Oh,” Sam’s face fell and he smoothed his hand flat over the design. “I’m sorry.”

 

Nick waved the bit of melancholy away. It didn’t belong right now. “He wasn’t the kind of person who wanted people looking sad in bars and saying ‘sorry’ over him.” Instead Nick raised his drink and knocked the neck of the bottle lightly against Sam’s glass. “We smile for him, and drink a little more, and maybe find a reason later to smack someone’s ass.”

 

Sure enough, Sam smiles like he could get onboard with that sort of tribute to a stranger that he would never meet. Though there was some understandable hesitancy, “do I get to help pick the target… or am I the intended receiver of this homage ass slap. And if so should I be worried?”

 

“I think I’ve reached my ass smacking quota for the day. I’ll let you be in charge of making sure it gets done.” Nick was willing to pass the responsibility on to his friend.

 

After all, Sam did seem like he had rather capable hands.

 

The joking didn’t land right though and Sam got a little frown between his eyes. “I’m going to tell you this because I like you… sometimes you make me sad.”

 

Nick chuckled at this revelation. “Yes, good. Everything is going according to plan.”

 

“And by sad, I mean I want to take you by the shoulders and shake you violently.”

 

“Well… can’t say I wouldn’t have it coming for some reason or another- but come on.” Honest, Nick had no idea why he’d earned a small threat of violence. It didn’t bother him, but that didn’t mean that he knew where it stemmed from. “Look at this face,” and he pointed to his cheeks while giving Sam what was most definitely not a winning smile. “You can’t be sad at a face like this.”

 

“There are times that I want to knock that grin right off you.” Sam had no more apology in him at this point, even though there was a small smile creeping back over him.

 

“Easy there, tiger.” And Nick laughed, not wholly sure if they were still joking or not- but either way he didn’t feel even remotely threatened by the man sitting across from him. “You’ve got to at least buy me dinner before gettin’ down to the rough stuff.”

 

Sam took a slow breath through his nose. Raising his glass, but not drinking so much as just holding it while he rubbed at his lip with the back of his thumb. He mumbled something under his breath that wasn’t meant for Nick to hear.

 

Something that sounded a bit like ‘ _the bruises I could leave on you…’,_ but that was probably just the noise of the bar mixing up and leaving too much room for Nick’s mind to fill in the gaps. Perhaps he still wasn’t over that slow kiss in the kitchen months ago. It was certainly a bit more likely than Sam actually saying the things that Nick knew he wouldn’t be saying.

 

He got a bit lost, sitting there, watching Sam watching him. The laughter draining from Nick as he looked at the other man and wondered how and why someone like this had decided to waste his time with someone like Nick.

 

There had to be classes starting in a few weeks that Sam could be studying for preemptively. Or… something else. Anything else, other than sitting in the back corner of a bar, sharing a couple of drinks and talking about absolutely nothing for the past hour.

 

But Sam shook his head, focused on being so very sincere. “If I ask you a serious question can I get a serious answer?”

 

Placing one hand over his heart and using the other to raise his own beer to his lips, Nick nodded.

 

All joking and teasing aside, Sam actually had the decency to look around the public place that they were sitting in and make sure that none of the other bar patrons were really paying attention to them- before tightening his jaw a few times, the little muscle in his cheek jumping. Finally getting the words out uneasily, “do you still love him?”

 

Which was a question that took Nick by surprise. “Him who?” So he deflected.

 

The tip of Sam’s tongue darted out along the edge of his teeth as he fixed Nick with a long look.

 

“Oh… _him_ ,” and he could only play dumb for so long, because he had sort of agreed to answer. “No.” The word rolled out of him without any hesitation. “God no… don’t think I ever did. We were more… ‘in like’ than in love... In long-term-like with each other.”

 

The unusual relationship status quieted Sam and gave him something to think over.   

 

“I can see your little hamster running in his wheel. ‘ _But, Nick, if you don’t like him then why do you keep going back to him like a dog to vomit?’_ ” He slumped down in his chair, relishing in the self mockery. “I’m not doing it on purpose. I see the bastard and my head says ‘hell no’, my heart says ‘hell no’, and everything from the waist down says ‘fuck yeah’... and then he’s looking at me like he’s already on his knees... and I cave.”  

 

More for Sam to puzzle over quietly as he sipped on his gin.  His earlier smiles still sliding somewhere beneath the surface. “If all you’re wanting is someone to look at you like they need you, then you’ve got other choices. People who didn’t string you on for two years… and aren’t married with children…  just saying.”

 

Nick sighed, turning his face towards the ceiling and hoping to hide the small involuntary pout that pulled at his mouth. None of what Sam was telling him was news.   “I’ve also got a very nice right hand- but it’s not the same.”

 

Sam choked on his drink, coughing wetly and casting so much shade in Nick’s direction.

 

“I’m… it’s a work in progress.” He mumbled to himself.

 

“And it would be easier if you weren't still ‘in like’ with him?” Sam thought he was so smart with all that college learning in that big pretty head of his.

 

“Am I on the witness stand here?” Frustrated and slightly offended, Nick straightened in his wobbly wooden chair. “Your Honor, I swear that if I were creative enough to come up with a way to break his bones without accruing assault charges- the fact that he’s spent the past few years lying to me and using me would have been sorted out quite some time ago. And I had every intention of smiting him down when I found him in my apartment today, but when I told him not to talk to me he found other things to do with that mouth, and I’m only human.”

 

It was obvious by the look on his face, that Sam did not approve of this answer, “...Nick,”

 

“Saying goodbye and good-fucking-riddance is just… it’s not going as well as expected.” Because yes, Balthazar was manipulative, but he’d known Nick for years. He knew how to trace his fingers over Nick’s tattoos in chronological order. He knew where to find faded old scars from childhood bike rides gone wrong, and kiss them better even if he was over twenty years too late. He knew Nick’s favorite song and would humm it while getting dressed. He still laughed every time Nick threatened him, like he knew it was just a joke and everything would settle back to how it was any day now.

 

It was hard to take a breakup seriously when the other person acted like it had never happened.

 

That awful sympathetic frown that Sam got sometimes crept over his sweet puppy dog face, and it didn’t look so good paired with those rosey cheeks that had been so happy just a bit ago.  

 

Impulsively, Nick almost tried to comfort him, to promise that today was the last time, but it made him feel too much like an addict, swearing that this cigarette would be his last one, when everyone else knew that he’d already had countless ‘last ones’ before.

 

“You ever think that you’d be less tempted to fall off the wagon if you were dating someone new?” Sam asked his drink, looking into the mostly empty glass so very intensely.

 

“I’m…” Nick was a mess, is what he was, but admitting it out loud wasn’t going to help anything. “I’m not exactly the social type. I might be a charming son of a bitch, but unless you’re volunteering yourself as tribute, that means I’ve actually got to go out and talk to new people… try to make a good first impression... “ he made a face. “And marinating in my quiet rage is just so much easier.”

 

Sam bit his lip.

 

It was oddly very distracting.

 

And Nick was still on his first beer so he couldn’t exactly blame the alcohol.

 

The younger man looked into his glass before tossing the rest of it down and squaring his shoulders before finding Nick’s face and just watching him until the action started to feel too obvious.

 

“And if I am?” He finally asked.

 

Feeling rather intimidated under the scrutiny, Nick spoke with care, “ _am_ what?”  

 

“Volunteering.”

 

“To…?”

 

“To be the bastard who looks at you like you’re already on your knees.” Such a suggestion.

 

Nick chuckled softly, until he realized that Sam might actually be serious. Then he laughed nervously and got his mouth around the lip of his beer before he could say something stupid.

 

His face felt hot- and he really hoped that whatever was going on on his cheeks wasn’t horribly visible under the dim lights. The last thing that he needed was Sam to see him blushing like a teenager.

 

“How’s, uh… how’s your gin treating you?” Nick tripped over his words a bit, frantically searching for something else to talk about that wasn’t what Sam was very not subtle in proposing that they talk about.

 

“It’s not as good as what my uncle used to make.” He looked into his empty glass, rolling it lightly on it’s edge. “You didn’t answer my question.”

 

Smiling like a sinner in church, Nick chose stubborn aversion. “Your uncle is a moonshiner? That’s very interesting.”

 

“Just bathtub gin every once in awhile. Never sold it though- that would be illegal. So no. Not technically a moonshiner.” Sam looked up from his careful glass rotations. “I can’t tell if you’re not answering because the answer’s no, or because you’re just being an ass.”

 

Honest? Nick didn’t know either. “Tell me more about this uncle of yours.”   

 

“It’s getting late. We can talk about him while I walk you home though.” The invitation seemed to say that Sam still had some very clear intentions in this matter.     

 

“I’m not your little date here,.” Nick was putting on a brave face, but inside he was utterly charmed by this man here. “Don’t think that just because I’m letting you walk me home that I’ll also be letting you kiss me goodnight on my stairs.”

 

Sam got to his feet, momentarily towering over the table as he stretched, waiting to be joined on his way to the door. “I can promise you, Nick, it’s not your stairs I’m interest in.”

 

It was good that the bar was newer and so very exciting. That it was fairly full of people, all laughing and talking and enjoying their Friday night. It meant that it was too loud, too many people packed into every corner, for anyone to really hear what Sam was saying. Anyone other than Nick.

 

The crowd also kept his slim sliver of shame intact. College town or not, this was still a fairly conservative state, and social normatives needed to be maintained. So he restrained himself as he stood. Pointedly  denying the urge to climb up Sam and claim him for his very own.

 

He walked home with him instead. Collecting himself and shutting down all sorts of strange little impulses as his friend told him all about the uncle that had raised him. There was nothing even remotely sexual about this bear of a man that Sam described with such childlike affection. That, paired with the suddenly clear and open night around them, fresh air, and room enough for there to be space between them, all helped Nick to get himself back under control.    

 

This was _Sam_ after all. He needed to remind himself of that. This was his friend- who had had three beers and two gins tonight. Who was still a bit rosy cheeked and not walking in the straightest line down the sidewalk beside Nick.

 

Not that he was exactly drunk, but the younger man was definitely quite a bit further along than Nick at this point.

 

The innuendos from before had passed quietly into the background in favor of Sam just rambling happily about his family while they walked. He was relaxed and open and back to his grinning and easy laughter. They reached the doors sooner than Nick would have liked.

 

“This is where I get off.” He nodded to the dark little unmarked door off to the side of the bakery. “You going to make it home ok?”

 

Obviously drunk or not, Sam really looked every bit like he was capable of finding a very distracting bird and following it off into the night, never to be seen or heard from again. It was enough to earn a bit of worry on his behalf.  

 

Taking a small, shuffling step closer, Sam lined the toes of his shoes up to Nick’s, crowding him with a curious little smile. “You’re… not going to ask me to come up?”

 

Fumbling in his pocket for his keys, Nick leaned a shoulder against the wall, looking up at Sam and wondering how he let himself get into these sorts of situations.  He had a million thoughts. The chief of them being that if this man here came up to his apartment then it was a fifty -fifty chance that they’d be having sex in the next few minutes. And really, the way that Sam was looking at Nick's mouth sort of skewed that percentage in an interesting way. But earlier today Nick had had a quick and filthy fumble in his bed with a man who was really really not worth the guilt that followed. He hadn’t even had a chance to get a proper shower afterwards.

 

Is this where Nick was now? Screwing two different guys in the same day, in the same bed?

 

Castile would be disappointed in him.

 

Nick would be disappointed in himself.

 

He was a lot of things, but this wasn’t one of them.

 

“I can’t.” A simple answer was the easiest one.

 

An answer that might have bothered other people. But not Sam. Sam was too… he was just too _Sam_ to be upset by something like this. Understanding to a fault. “It’s still too soon. isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah…” at least is saved Nick a bigger, more damning explanation. “I haven’t even had a chance to wash the sheets yet.”

 

“Oh…” Sam’s eyes went a little wide as understanding dawned on him. He looked down at the pavement, then out to the street. Back at the dark store front. So very softly, almost timid for the first time every, Sam asked, “you think you and him are going to get back together at some point?”

 

Holding back a mixture of laughter and vomit, Nick shook his head. “Not if hell froze over. Not if his was the only fine ass left in the whole world, and it was settle down with him or live a life of seclusion and celibacy. No.”

 

Sharp as a slap though, Sam didn’t miss a beat. “But if he comes around you’ll still put out?”

 

Which was an undeserved low blow, “hell. You don’t pull your punches, do you, kiddo?”

 

No apology at all, he kept on with a simple, “I only know what I see.”

 

Nick folded his arms, slipping his fingers through the loop of his key ring. “What do you want me to say here?” A strange sort of betrayal had taken place. Even after months, it was a bit disturbing to know that someone he’d trusted had been lying to him for _years_ . Nick had no doubt that he’d meant _something_ to Balthazar at some point- but whatever that something was obviously hadn’t been enough. “I hate him.”

 

Almost as much as Nick hated being alone.

 

He let his head fall back against the wall, sighing and doing his best to remember the laughter and smiles of tonight and not the everything else that had come before that. Or the uneasy words that were coming now in waves.

 

“I told you before.” He let his his eyes closed, feeling more in control of himself when he could shut out the everything else around him. “It’s a work in progress.”

 

“I’m not trying to be the screen door in your submarine here,” Sam’s gentle tone was back. All soothing and calm Like what you’d use to talk someone in off a ledge. “But what _progress_ have you really made, Nick?”

 

A fair question.

 

Also a bit of a dick move to question the obvious flaw in. “He wanted to stay the night here. His wife has taken pretty much everything in the divorce hearings, including his apartment in the states. I told him I was glad.”

 

“Is this before or after clothes came off?” Sam didn’t let up for even a second. And he did it all with that sweet ‘I just want to help’ look on his face.

 

“Fuck you… and it was after.” Nick looked up into the stores across the street. Pointedly staring far over the other man’s shoulder. “But as you can see,  I didn’t let him stay. And I came out with you instead. It’s called god damned progress, you beautiful son of a bitch.”

 

“That’s good.”  Which oddly, didn’t sound nearly as condescending as one would have expected it to.

 

“You bet your boots it is.” He was oddly proud of how easy it had been to tell Balthazar to get lost. “He’s nothing to me other than a passing source of rage, and surprisingly good angry sex.”

 

Sam could have said a lot of things in answer to that. Lots of expected things. He chose the nonconventional, “you haven’t opened the door still,” instead.

 

“No… I haven’t.” And Nick didn’t know what that sort of observation was supposed to mean to him.  

 

“So, we’re not on the stairs.”

 

“No…” he felt oh so very lost. “We’re not… and?”

 

One of Sam’s hands anchored itself on the wall beside Nick’s head. He didn’t have far to lean down, not with their toes already touching, and he just stood over Nick, with his eyes so bright, smile so soft and crooked, and just the smallest taste of gin still on his breath.  

 

“And I agreed not to kiss you on the stairs.”

 

Laughter tickled down in Nick’s chest like a living thing, clawing at his ribs. He fought it though. Nick was good at beating something so happy down into just a small, hook of a smile. “Don’t you think for one second that you can follow me home like a long legged labrador, rub some salt in old wounds, and then expect to kiss me up against a wall.”

 

Sam didn’t move his arm.

 

Sam didn’t take a step back.

 

His nose touched Nick’s.

 

“You want some help doing laundry instead?”

 

Nick blinked, remembered to breathe, and did his best not to lick his lips. “A-A man’s dirty sheets are his own private kingdom. Thank you very much.” Slowly, he unfolded his arms and so tentatively placed his hands along the other man’s sides.

 

“You maybe just want a little bit of company?”

 

“Depends on the type of company.” Nick had so many specific intentions when he started tonight. Slowly brushing his lips along Sam’s as he spoke was not one of those. “I’m looking for someone who will behave himself.”

 

“Yeah?” Sam was smiling against his mouth.

 

For just a moment, Nick closed his eyes, taking a shaking breath and simply savoring the feel of the other man against him. “Yeah.”

 

“I can behave.”

 

Well…  

 

as long as one of them could.   


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been going through and cleaning up chapters before I post them (most of this was all written up a month or so ago), but this week I'm babysitting a 2 year old child. It's cut into my stupid story writing/editing time :/  
> I'm sorry that I didn't get a chapter up yesterday, and that this one's a bit smol.   
> But it's happy?  
> *shrug*

  
  


Some people could sleep anywhere. 

 

Nick was not one of those.

 

He and his brothers had grown up in Albany, New York. They’d shared a big room in a small house that none of them liked. Just a few hours and one state line away from where Nick lived now. He was fairly certain that at some point he’d even gone on a school field trip out here to visit the college campus.  Only  _ fairly _ certain though- because Nick most likely had slept through the whole thing. He’d slept his way through almost every field trip he’d ever gone on. Most of highschool. Parts of college. And right up until his mid twenties when he’d hurt a shoulder in a car accident, he’d been able to comfortably pass out just about anywhere. Since then though he’d found that if he wasn’t flat on his back at night in a proper bed, then he would wake up stiff and full of regrets.

 

This was one of those mornings. 

 

Oddly, sleeping face down against Sam’s chest was not the most ergonomic position possible.  Nice and warm and strangely comforting- but far from comfortable.

 

He shifted slowly, pushing himself awkwardly up onto an elbow as he woke up in stages. They’d slotted together strangely during the night, both of them with a single leg dangling off of the couch, one of Nick’s arms trapped beneath Sam, and one of Sam’s hands firmly tucked into Nick’s back pocket. The slat of the man’s hips were a nice solid cradle for Nick’s ribcage. Other than the whole slightly shifting while he breathed thing he had going, Sam was very much like laying against an over sized teddy bear.

 

After a quick assessment,  it was obvious that they were both fully dressed, even down to their shoes, and Nick took that as a good sign- especially considering that the early morning haze left last night a bit of a mystery. They had behaved, or at least one of them had had sense enough to behave for both of them. Small miracles. 

 

Nick could count the number of people that he liked on one hand, and still have fingers left over. He’d hate to lose Sam over something as stupid and easily avoidable as morning-after-awkwardness. 

 

Nick let his head fall slack for a few moments, chin to his chest. His shoulder was killing him, and he had to pee, but the little wet spot on Sam’s shirt where Nick’s mouth had been resting was sort of hilarious in an unexpected kind of way. 

 

There were certainly worse ways to wake up.

 

“Hey, princess.” Nick slapped lightly at the man’s chest with his one free hand, but the slapping quickly turned into a something it shouldn’t have as he found himself distracted by the dip and valley of Sam’s sternum. Petting. Nick was petting. He needed to stay focused. “I need to get up, Samantha. Shift it.”

 

To which Sam only grumbled sleepily and moved just enough that Nick was able to extract his arm. Anything more than that was apparently too complicated in the early hours.

 

Pins and needles running through his freshly freed limb, Nick flexed his fingers and tried to drag himself up the rest of the way. Only to find himself still stuck. “Sam,”

 

The man beneath him grunted questioningly, eyes still closed, chest rising with alarming speed as he took in a deep yawn while still too out of it to even bother opening his mouth.

 

For the first time since he’d met Sam, Nick felt comfortable enough to just grin, something he was usually far too self conscious to do. But there was no one here who was looking, no one to make assumptions why the groggy lump of a man on his couch was so worth grinning over.   “Sam… kindly let go of my ass.”

 

The smallest smile crept over his face in answer, and he wiggled his fingers wildly around in Nick’s pocket before pulling his arms away, folding them up over the top of his head. The movement did no favors to his already glorious morning hair.

 

Still half asleep himself, and in need of getting up right the hell now, Nick found himself so very tempted to lay back down on this man and kiss at the underside of his upturned jaw.  And granted, Nick wasn’t usually so tempted to man handle this man- but good god. There was just something about the way he looked so utterly defenceless lying there, stretched out like an offering that made the temptation almost irresistible. 

 

Early mornings were troubles.

 

Sam was trouble.

 

… but the good kind.

 

Even still, Nick slid himself off the couch, very overly cautious of not accidentally elbowing or kneeing any of Sam’s tender, unprotected bits.

 

By the time that Nick had made use of the facilities, brushed his teeth, and got himself a quick shower, Sam had drifted back to sleep. Snoozing gently where he was draped over the couch. Arms and legs aggressively splayed out every which way, his breaths coming slow and deep.

 

If it wasn’t time for him to go downstairs and help Castiel open up the shop, then Nick would have been eager to lay himself back over that man like a blanket, and join him in some very satisfying looking early morning napping.

 

Priorities though.

Stupid priorities always getting in the way of fun.

 

The lights in the shop were still out, which was odd seeing as his brother usually came in and started baking around five... and it was now seven. Nick should have been able to smell muffins and pies, and the pot of coffee that always got started for him right before he came down, all those warm and tasty scents that meant it was time to start the day.

 

It was quiet though.

 

It had never been quiet before.

 

So something as simple as a dark kitchen actually really freaked Nick out. He almost ran upstairs to find his phone. Fumbling around noisily on the coffee table and dialing his brother’s number, only distantly aware that he’d woken Sam in his rush.

 

All that sudden and mindless panic was enough to choke on as Castiel answered his phone before the second ring with a casual, “good morning, Nick.”

 

“Are you ok?”

 

“I’m fine.” And he really sounded like it. “Why do you ask?”

 

With that out of the way, Nick was able to rattle out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he sank onto the arm of the couch and closed his eyes. “Where the hell are you?”

 

“I’m the hell in South Dakota.” And even the miles between them could not disguise the dry humorless way that he chose to answer.

 

Nick just looked at his phone, and then to Sam (who offered nothing other than an expression that was half baffled, half worried), then around the room in general as he struggled to understand the words that he’d just heard.

 

“Cassy,” he knew that he was going to regret asking. “Why are you in South Dakota instead of here making the food for today?”

 

“I left a note for you on the counter yesterday. You didn’t see it?”

 

Yelling wouldn’t help. And Nick wasn’t particularly mad, so an outburst was unnecessary. Deep breaths though, finding his calm. “I didn’t see it. What does it say?”

 

And just like that, his little brother launched into a strange story involving the post office and the fact that overnighting a pie on a Friday afternoon meant that it wouldn’t even leave the post office until Saturday afternoon and then it wouldn’t get delivered until Monday because there’s no post on Sundays- and there still wasn’t even a guarantee that it would be there on Monday anyways- so really, since the pie was already made, the most logical thing to do was to just drive the pie to Sam’s brother.

 

“I made sure that the pastry case was full before I left last night, so you should be alright for the day.” Castiel was one of the most logical people on the planet. It didn’t mean that he was easy to talk to.

 

Just like it didn’t really matter to Nick that he’d have enough stock to maybe get through the day, and then he could relax because the shop was closed on Sundays and Mondays. What mattered to him was that his brother had driven twelve hours, at night, to deliver a cherry pie to a man that he didn’t know, because he felt that this stranger needed a get well pastry.

 

One thing at a time though. “Did you get there ok?”

 

“I got tired a few hours ago and pulled over to the side of the road to sleep. Your call actually woke me. Thank you for that.”

 

Nick pressed the pad of a thumb against an eye, focusing on the quiet pressure. There was no point in warning his brother against sleeping in his car in the middle of nowhere. “Alright. Give me a call when you get there so I know you didn’t die.”

 

He said his goodbye and tossed his phone back onto the table, for a few moments ignoring the way that Sam was looking over at him so expectantly.

 

“Did he decide to drive the pie to my brother’s place?” He asked after long enough had passed that he must have figure that Nick wasn’t going to be offering up any information willingly. 

 

“Sammy, are you psychic, or did you just roll a twenty towards intuition?”

 

Sam gave him a level look before running hands through his hair and pulling himself together. “If he’s gone for the day are you going to want help in the shop?”

 

Usually they didn’t have him in the shop on Saturdays… but being alone for the da wasn’t exactly an inviting proposition for Nick to weigh. Before he could decide one way or the other- his phone started ringing. The fact that it was his brother calling back, less than five minutes after hanging up was worrisome enough to waylay any kind of response to Sam’s offer.

 

“Nick!” And  _ there.  _ There was the frantic sort of worry from Castiel that had been absent in their earlier conversation. “Nick, I hit a cow.”

 

To which Nick may have let out a startled laugh where sympathy should have been.

 

“This is not a laughing matter. I was making sure that things behind me was clear so I could pull out onto the road and I wasn’t looking in front of the car.” He sounded on the verge of tears. “She is sweet brown cow, and I hit her. What do I do?”

 

“Well,” this was not a situation that Nick had ever had to plan for. “Is the cow ok?”

 

“She’s walked away, back out into the field. She seems to be fairly resilient… do you think I should get out and check on her?”

 

And Nick liked animals. Unlike people, animals were inherently good. Which made them a lot more deserving of worry and attention. However, if he were in his brother’s place… “If the cow seems fine, Cassy, and you don’t see the person who owns the cow around anywhere, just get back on the road and go.”

 

“I can’t do that.”

 

“Cows are sturdy. You hear stories all the time about people hitting deer and moose and cattle and they all just shake it off and wander away. If she looks fine then it’s fine.” 

 

“It’s not the cow, Nick. I mean  _ I _ can’t drive. There is smoke coming from my car’s hood, and you specifically told me not to drive the car any time that there are strange sights or smells coming from it.”

 

The advice that his brother bothered to take from him apparently had everything to do with automotive safety (a thing which Nick very was unqualified to give), and apparently zero to deal with not going on exciting adventures to meet strangers in remote locations. 

 

He placed a calm and quiet hand over his phone and turned to Sam, “your uncle owns a towing company, right?”

 

“Salvage yard and mechanic shop,” the man was watching him so intently. “But he does own a tow truck.”

 

“Fantastic.” Nick pressed his phone into Sam’s unexpecting hands. “Then he’s you and your uncle’s problem. I need to go down and open the damn shop.”

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's super early morning. At least it feels that way. And I'm still decompressing after a hell of a week, getting ready to throw myself headfirst back into real life tomorrow. So updates may get... more what you'd expect from me out of past experience. Every week or so.  
> But it's been fun having a stretch of very fast updates. And I'm happy to let this story sit on a good note for the next week. 
> 
> Hope you guys are all enjoying your various degrees of summer.  
> See you in a bit

Limited inventory aside, the morning wasn’t so bad. A few people came in to get their regular breakfast muffins or coffee cake before work. It was nothing that Nick couldn’t handle on his own- especially considering that he did it on his own just about every morning because Castiel wasn’t what could be considered a ‘people person’. He didn’t have Nick’s … people skills… which said an awful lot about how utterly doomed they both were.

 

Comfortably lost in his thoughts, worrying over his brother, worrying over the rapidly dwindling pastries that were supposed to last him the rest of the day- Nick didn’t notice when Sam finally came downstairs to the shop. He _did_ however very much notice as Sam’s hand slid over his lower back, as was their common greeting when trying to pass each other in the close confines behind the register.

 

It was a nice way to let each other know not to suddenly take a step back or to turn around, lest they crash awkwardly together. The first few weeks that Sam had been here there had been many elbows connecting sharply to ribs, and toes getting lightly stomped on. And there may have possibly been other ways to announce how close they were that didn’t involve touching. But if there was, neither of them seemed all that interested in hearing the options.

 

There’s some kind of bone deep reassurance in the brush of a hand against skin. Humans thrive on touch. On knowing that someone else is nearby.

 

And between them it was usually just a light tap. Just a small ‘hey, I’m here.’ But this time Sam’s big ol’ hand stayed put, fingers notching perfectly along the base of Nick’s spine. He’d done this once or twice before, and all things considered, it probably meant something kind of devastating… though Nick didn’t have a good guess as to what it could be.

 

Happy as you like, and with no hint in his tone that there was anything at all odd going on behind Nick’s back, Sam announced, “I’ve got some good news.”

 

Carefully, not willing to move too much, lest he break the contact, Nick just nodded. “I like good news.”

 

“Looks like the cow your brother hit is from a farm just outside of Sioux Falls, just a couple miles from where my brother lives.” Which wasn’t all that good to hear on it’s own, until it was followed with, “I called Dean, and he is riding to the rescue as we speak.”

 

As news went, that was certainly better than expected.

 

Relief settled somewhere in Nick’s chest where an uncomfortable weight had been resting. “I’d say we should give him a thank-you-pie, but as long as he likes cherry I guess Castiel already has him covered.” He was very, very aware of the fact that that hand was still on his back. Part of Sam’s arm brushing along his side, but he tried to stay focused “Your brother… he good like you?”

 

Thanks to last night, and Sam’s slightly drunk, very talkative nature, Nick had learned just about everything there was to know about this _Uncle Bobby_ person. Dean was still a bit of an unknown though. His list of character traits that Nick had picked up on were simple: liked pie, liked his brother Sam, was older than brother Sam, knew his way around cars, lived in South Dakota, got into bar fights and broke his arm defending girls he didn’t know, and was willing to leave his house early in the morning to pick up strangers who had been vouched for by Sam.

 

“Dean? He’s… he’s good in his own way. He’ll take care of Cas though, I promise.” Sam chuckled and finally, _finally_ stepped back, hand falling away.

 

“Double pinky promise?” Nick teased as he centered his thoughts. Relieved, but already missing the warm touch. However, stupidly, he made the mistake of turning to look up at Sam.

 

Sam… who was wearing stolen clothes. Just some faded jeans and an old plain green tshirt. But they were Nick’s faded jeans hanging off Sam’s hips. And Nick’s old tshirt that was comfortably snug across Sam’s broad chest. Not really a big deal at all, but for some weird reason the whole unexpected set temporarily derailed all thoughts and Nick ended up missing the answer to his question.

 

Only kind of coming back around in time to hear, “should have an estimate on the damage in an hour or two.”

 

Blankly, Nick nodded. Wondering if he should call the other man out on the blatant clothing theft, or if it was one of those things that you just let friends do. Though he wouldn’t admit to it, Nick… hadn’t really had any close friends in a long time. So if this was normal behaviour, then color him surprised. All he knew for sure what that Sam looked a hell of a lot better in Nick’s clothes than Nick ever did.  Maybe it was a posture thing? Or just simply the confidence that comes with blatantly wearing stolen goods in front of the person you’d stolen them from.

 

Sam seemed to catch on that there was something concerning about his appearance though- very likely Nick hadn’t been able to school his face into something pleasantly blank and had given far too much away with his silent staring.

 

“You don’t mind, right?” Dimples showing in a hesitant, almost guilty smile. “I didn’t think wearing wrinkled clothes that smelled like alcohol would be the best plan for work today.”

 

The fool.

 

“Joke’s on you; everything I own is permeated with the stink of liquor and bad choices.”

 

“And if I say that I sort of like your _musk…?_ ” Sam leaned into him, shoulders touching in a lingering kind of way. It was obvious that he had some really bad taste in more than just cologne.

 

“The musk of bad choices?” Nick secretly really like being one of those ‘bad tastes’ though. And he bit back a smile, chewing on his lip as he knocked the side of his head into the other man’s.

 

Sam let up first. Taking a deep breath before straightening up and finding something on the counter to kind of rearrange lamely. “About last night, Nick,” he started and then abandoned the thought almost immediately.

 

Which was fairly high on the list of conversation starters that no one wants to have, and Nick knew better than to ask… and yet-

 

“... what about last night?” Nick was curious though. Happy to have something to latch onto aside from the bad ideas that he was starting to entertain about his lingering proximity to the other man.  

 

Color crept over Sam’s face and his eyes darted somewhere off to his right before finding the floor. “I’d had a little more to drink than I’d planned- and that’s not an excuse,” he quickly added, tight edge of worry catching in his voice. “But I… I might have come on a little strong.”

 

 _Ah_ , so that was it. What a stupid thing to worry about. Nick didn’t get a chance to express his feelings on the matter though because Sam kept on with a worried kind of frown.

 

“I like you,” was his awkwardly startling revelation. As if that little accident of Sam’s had somehow gone unnoticed. And he looked over at Nick finally, but not with a smile. He looked worried, like he knew that his words were going to land badly. “But you’re coming off a very long, very bad break up and it’s not a good time to-”

 

“Hey now-”

 

Sam could interrupt too though. “No. Nick,”

 

Frustrated, and not interested in Sam’s assumptions, Nick made a brave move. Arguments were abandoned in favor of getting this beautifully stupid man’s face between his hands. Which did a spectacular job in shutting Sam the hell up. A neat little trick that Nick planned to keep in mind, should he ever need to quiet down Sam again at a later date in time.

 

“I would... count myself very lucky to have someone even half as gorgeous as you shamelessly hitting on me with any kind of frequency.” Nick mused, taking a moment to admire just how unreasonably attractive this face here really was.

 

Sam’s cheeks were a bit rough beneath his fingers- which meant that he probably usually shaved before coming into work, but didn’t have a chance to today. Those eyes of his were a strange kind of brownish green that didn’t fit into either definition easily. His hair was soft and loose, tickling over the back of Nick’s hands and wrists. And then that mouth. Lightly quirked up on the edges in a question, looking so damn inviting.

 

And a little too late, Nick realised that he’d been sort of stuck here holding Sam for a bit too long. So, with a smile and a shrug he let his hands slide down along the line of the other man’s neck, resting on his shoulders. “I was in a weird place last night.Worked up in all the worst ways. Don’t take any answer I gave you as from the mouth of god.”

 

A little unwillingly it seemed, Sam drew a little nearer. Then very pointedly, he stopped himself. “You… didn’t ever actually give me a straight answer.”

 

Nick grinned. “Let me make something very clear.” And he lifted his chin, defiant nod which brought him just close enough to whisper against Sam’s mouth. Suddenly feeling very much that having to look up to meet this man was not at all a bad thing. It made the angle where their chins and then noses bumped together new and curious. “If I ever give you an answer it will most definitely not be straight.”

 

A slow, practically accidental graze of their lips, and Nick was relishing in the way that apparently Sam ran on a rhythm that was very easy to disrupt- if the way that his breath caught in a strange little hiccough, or the soft _click_ of his teeth, were any indication at all.

 

The bell over the door disrupted whatever might have come next. A group of three teenaged girls who were using the summer as an excuse to come in a few hours too early, came in and all their soft conversation died. Their startled silence quickly erupting into ‘ _ooooh’_ s and giggles.

 

“I _told_ you, Vivian.” The shortest of the girls slapped one of her friends’ arms. “Hot bakery guy and troubled bakery guy are doing it.”

 

Sam turned an interesting color and took a healthy step back from Nick who was just a bit disappointed that these girls had been coming here for years now and hadn’t come up with a better name for him than ‘ _hot bakery guy_ ’.

 

“I’ll get their cookies,” Nick nudged Sam towards the kitchen, because he was fairly sure that he wouldn’t be able to keep it together with the cherry colored man snickering quietly beside him.

 

“I’ll um… I’ll see how things are going with Dean,” and then Sam snuck in a quick wink before he pulled out his phone and walked himself to the back. Looking rather happy for an excuse to hide.

 

For the first time ever, Nick hated Sam. Just a bit.

 

“You have to tell us,” the one with glasses leaned on the counter, looking up at Nick. “How long have you and _hot baker_ been sneaking smooches between customers?”

 

He didn’t know their names. He’d never bothered to learn them. They were just ‘the girls’. And apparently Nick was actually the ‘troubled baker’. He just couldn’t catch a break sometimes.

 

Cookies were placed on a little plate on the counter. “A lady doesn’t ask and a gentleman doesn’t tell.”

 

She and her friends pouted in unison. “We’ve got money riding on this though.” The small one folded her arms.

 

Suddenly intrigued, Nick held back the cookies. “How much?”

 

“Fifty bucks,” she sighed.

 

Nick died a little inside. He didn’t have two bucks to rub together when he was their age, much less fifty to throw around on friendly wagers over stranger’s sexuality.

 

“I thought you and the confused guy from the back room had a thing.” The bespectacled one grumbled and paid for their food and tucked a twenty into the tip jar.

 

It might have been Nick’s imagination, but he could swear that he heard Sam cackling somewhere in the distance.

 

Resisting the urge to fold his arms, he handed over their cookies. “ _Confused guy_ is my little brother, but thanks for that… disturbing mental image that will haunt me for the rest of my life.”

 

The girls laughed. Just a trio of giggles over the fact that Nick had a brother. Apparently it was hilarious.  

 

“Do me a favor and take your cookies to-go today, _hm_.”

 

More giggling followed, but they took their cookies, one of them whispering, “yeah, they need their _alone_ time.”

 

‘But… who won?” Shorty frowned on her way out, looking longingly back over her shoulder to Nick.

 

On a normal day he would have just told them to get lost without any uncertainty- but, they had left him an unreasonable amount of cash in the tip jar and NIck was in a surprisingly good mood. “He asked me out a few months ago- I told him no. We’re… now in negotiations.”

 

“Hot negotiations?”

 

It took everything that Nick had to keep a straight face. “Come back when you’re eighteen and it’s not a felony. I’ll tell you all about it.”

 

They left amidst a chorus of giggling, and Nick was given a moment’s peace to just lean on the counter with his face in his hands, wondering what he was doing with his life.  Out of his peripheral he could hear Sam talking on the phone. Just little snatches of a single side of conversation.

 

“Yeah, he’s a bit of an odd little guy. I did give you a heads up. -no, Dean- No. That’s a really long drive- you don’t have to- no, I’m not saying I don’t want to see you, it’s just- yeah- yeah. I know. I’ve missed you too, man- alright.”

 

Nick was nosey. So he let himself slid around the corner, watching as Sam leaned a hip up against the work table and he talked to his brother while wearing an expression that was wholly comprised of childlike joy.

 

And people weren't meant to like their siblings that much. It was practically unnatural. But there Sam was bleeding _happy_ out of every pore. “I’ll see you tomorrow, jerk.” The phone was hung up and returned to Sam’s stolen pocket with that excited puppy smile still firmly in place.

 

Nick just waited expectantly, folding his arms over his chest beneath his apron, letting his elbows hang out comfortably. “And?”

 

“Car is a lost cause.” He rolled his shoulders. “Radiator was crushed _into_ the engine block, and with a car that old the repairs just aren’t worth it… _So,_ Dean is driving Castiel back here.”

 

“That’s a long drive for him.” Nick repeated the earlier sentiment that he’d overheard. “Just how many pies is he expecting here in return?”

 

A warm chuckle shook Sam. “We haven't seen each other since January. Bringing your brother home is a decent excuse for him to come visit. And apparently with his broken arm he’s not much good around the shop.”

 

Hooray for broken arms?

 

Rolling his eyes to keep up pretenses, but inwardly so very relieved that Cassy had a certified safe escort back home, Nick returned to the front of the shop. He hesitated though, turning back to the other man when a thought caught him. “Where does he plan on staying while he’s here? Because I’ve seen that hole you call a room, and unless you and him are going to work out some kind of timeshare, or you swapped out for bunkbeds. It’s gunna’ get real strange and snuggly for the two of you.”

 

“We’ll figure something out.” Sam promised, waving away the concern like a cloud that was trying to overshadow his good mood.

 

“What did you two do last time he was here?”

 

And Sam’s smile wilted slightly. “I was staying in a bigger place last time… he just slept on the couch.”

 

Maybe the two of them didn’t talk often enough. At least not about important things. Because as far as Nick could figure, between the time that he’d met this man and now, Sam had moved from a place big enough to have a couch, to living in closet. He’d also sold his car to pay for tuition. Those were some fairly devastating financial issues he was having to support such a downgrade in quality of life.

 

Nick chewed over this news, not liking at all how it caught in his throat. So he grabbed a broom and got to sweeping the lobby. Very suddenly needing to busy himself to distract from the impulsive offer he almost blurted out, that floor was swept with an intensity that it had never been swept before. Nick arguing himself in silent circles as he went- because Sam was an employee... but also a friend… money was obviously tight…  but they hadn’t really known each other that long... however... but if… and NIck was just…  what about…

 

“Hey,” in that way he did so well, Sam just sort of cleared his throat and startled the ever living hell out of Nick. “I’m not complaining, but is the plan with us now?”

 

“Plan?” Lightly, he strangled the handle of his broom, trying on a smile that was a few sizes too small.

 

“A lot of not quite kissing and a lot of not talking about it?” An idea that made Sam’s eyes light up with possibilities. Apparently he liked this plan, even if he doubted its efficacy.

 

Unfortunately, Nick didn’t have a good excuse to give for why he was toying with Sam.

 

Just like he didn’t have a good excuse as to why he wasn’t just grabbing Sam and telling him ‘yes’, other than that it felt too much like a blind grab at not being alone for a while. And if things went sideways Nick would be out someone he wasn’t sure he was ready to lose.

 

Same as he didn’t feel right just flat out saying ‘no’, because for months now he’d actually been able to count this gangly man as a friend. A friend whose lap he wouldn’t mind sitting in. Whose throat he’d like to explore using mostly teeth.

 

When in doubt though, it was always safest to retreat. “I was thinking, with the pastry case already almost empty, maybe we can close up early today.”

 

“Nick…” Sam started in an almost lecturing tone. “It’s not even noon yet.”

 

“Does that mean that you don’t want to get out of here with me?”

 

“And go where?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

Almost hesitating long enough to be a responsible adult, Sam shook his head, “it doesn’t matter at all.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *finger pistols in y'all's direction, while drifting back into her dark corner*

“When you suggested that we ‘feed the cat’, I thought that,” thinking his words over, Sam frowned, “that it was code for something.”

 

Nick laughed, leaning down to lightly scratch the head of the cat the was winding around his ankles. “Cassy asked really nice in the note that he’d left. And I don’t think Mister Churchill here should be punished by my brother’s impulsive life choices.”

 

“Mister…  _ Churchill _ ?” Sam eyed the rotund black and white cat with heavy skepticism.

 

“I can call him Winston, but we’re on a first name basis.” Nick scooped up the cat and simply placed it up on his shoulder, holding steady while the portly feline adjusted it’s weight and settled in. “You will have to keep up formalities, lest you offend him.”

 

“... right… why did you brother name his cat after Winston Churchill?”

 

Nick kept a firm hand on that firm cat backside as he picked up the little watering can off the kitchen window sill, filling it with water from the tap. He was mulling over what answer would be the most entertaining, but Sam beat him to it. 

 

“You know what? I don’t need to know. A little mystery is healthy.”

 

To which Nick could only chuckle, turning off the faucet and shuffling slowly around the little house, watering the potted plants.

 

“Does, uh,  _ Mister Churchill _ ride on just anyone, or…?”

 

“Winston here is a third-hand cat. I was his first owner, and when he was a kitten this is where he liked to sit. He’s… a bit of a fat lard at this point, and way too big to fit like he used to-” Affectionately, Nick curled his fingers that were helping to keep the cat in place like an overweight parrot, scratching lightly right above the short little tail. “But we manage.”

 

The look on Sam’s face was distractingly sweet as he gazed at Nick with an inappropriate amount of affection for some reason. 

 

In an unusual fit of awkwardness, Nick forced himself to focus on those plants that his brother had requested to be watered. It was nice to have a distraction. Anything to look at other than the man gazing at him as if he were a pile of baby quail chicks. There was no good cause for anyone ever to look so sweetly at someone as salty as Nick.

 

“Can you not have pets in your apartment?” 

 

It was an odd jump in logic that Nick didn’t immediately follow. “Mmm?”

 

“That’s why he lives with Cas now?”

 

And as much as Nick enjoyed Sam’s story times, when he got to just listen to this man here ramble on about absolutely nothing at all- Nick was never all that good about telling his own sordid backstory. But if you plan to keep someone in your life, as a friend or a friend-plus, then opening up a little was probably a step in the right direction.

 

Steeling himself, Nick stared down a ficus and opened up like he’d been gutted. “Me and the girl I was living with at the time adopted Winston. Things didn’t work out between us, but I got to keep the cat, so it wasn’t all bad. But then there was this whole… life upheaval that happened a few months later. I did some road-tripping, backpacking in the mountains, soul searching,  _ whatever, _ for almost a year.” Which was the most concise way that he could come up with to summarize a very bad and confusing period in his life. “So I left Winston here with my brother Gabriel-”

 

“Wait.” Sam looked rightfully stunned. “You have another brother?” 

 

“ _ Had _ .” The word fell a little harder than he’d intended, and Nick had to clear his throat before continuing. “And… I was out of country when he died, so Cassy took in Winston so he wouldn’t have to go to a shelter. Like I said, he’s a third-hand cat at this point. I guess I could have taken him back when I moved back out here and got settled in, but Cassy needed the company and I’m not a completely heartless bastard, so I let him keep the cat.” 

 

Things that had all happened many years back, but never failed to feel like a gut punch. Nick hoped that Sam appreciated the oversharing with a side helping of vulnerability, because it wasn’t an act that he planned to repeat any time soon. 

 

“I…” Sam trailed off, most likely searching for the appropriate cliche sympathetic phrase to insert. But then he surprised Nick with softly musing, “I didn’t know that you’d ever dated any girls.”

 

“Just the one,” and he was so relieved that out of all that he’d said,  _ this _ is what the other man had chosen to mercifully focus on. He found himself smiling as he filled in the details. “I was young and curious and away from home for the first time in my life, so I got into experimenting with alcohol, and drugs, and sex- as you do in college. I met a lovely young lady my sophomore year in a history class, and we hit it off, and I thought that I’d see what all those straight guys were always raving about. Tried it out for a while, but it wasn’t for me. Don’t get me wrong, she was kind of fantastic. And I really liked her, we got along well, and her parents even liked me- god knows why. But the sex was just…”  _ how to put it delicately _ ? “I was almost always thinking about an ex boyfriends, or a future ex boyfriends when we were in bed together, and it wasn’t fair to her.” 

 

Silence from the kitchen. It was a lot to take in though. “That’s…” Sam eventually tried, “that’s a very different college experience than mine. But good for you figuring things out I guess?”

 

Nick laughed, and maybe it was a little strained, but it felt good nonetheless. He came back over and placed the empty watering can back in the window, lightly nudging Winston from his shoulder and down onto the counter.  

 

“Can I pet him?”

 

“Knock yourself out.” He gently encouraged, leaving Sam to investigate the curious cat, as he went to the cabinet to find the bag of kibble.

 

As he filled up the little ceramic food bowl beside the fridge, Nick got to watch from the corner of his eye as the younger man leaned down to be eye level with Winston, quietly asking questions before offering up a few fingers to sniff.

 

Sam was able to get in a few tentative chin scratches before the cat launched himself from the countertop to the floor, landing with a solid sound, to waddle eagerly to his food. 

 

“That… is a fat cat.”

 

No denying that, but Nick couldn’t help himself from coming to defense of past tense fur child.“He’s actually lost a few pounds since Cassy stopped bringing home buttercream frosting to share.”

 

With a frown, Sam quickly turned to look at Nick. “You’re joking right?”

 

“I wish.” He shook his head. “Winston here tipped the scales at twenty-three pounds last New Year. He’s down to seventeen. We’re all very proud of him.

 

Judging by his expression Sam was impressed and slightly disturbed.

 

“Moral of the story here, my brother is a stress baker, and also very good at sharing.” Nick shook his head and found his way to the couch, stretching out with his arms resting comfortably up on the back rest. “We found a healthy outlet for him, and he and Winston are doing much better.”

 

“... more baking?” Sam looked rather hesitant.

 

“Poetry.” Nick joked. “Kid loves him some iambic pentameter.” 

 

In actuality, his brother and him had taken up boxing at their local gym- but he knew how much Castiel hated people looking at him and weighing his gentle demeanor against any type of violence. Recreational or otherwise. So Nick kept it to himself. 

 

Sam trailed him into the room, looking at the welcoming spot beside Nick and wisely deciding to lean himself up against the heavy antique desk along the far wall. A solid piece of furniture that had been in Nick’s family for decades.

 

A desk that Nick had been pointedly ignoring for personal reasons, but now was forced to acknowledge. 

 

“So what do we do for the rest of the day, since we’re playing hooky from work and all?” Sam asked like he’d never in his life been a delinquent and needed some direction. It was kind of sweet.

 

“Right now?” Unfortunately, ‘sweet’ was not where Nick’s mind was lingering. “Do our best to not think about the fact that I lost my virginity on that desk.”

 

At first, Sam laughed, but apparently something on Nick’s face tipped him off, “...please tell me you're joking.”

 

“I was fifteen, he was a year older than me, helping me study for my algebra final… that I ended up failing.” And the memory coaxed a small smile out of him. “Had to repeat the class Junior year… but damn I got some good miles out of that desk.”

 

“Oh my god, Nick.” Hands up in the air, Sam took a concerned step away from the offending furniture. “On your brother’s desk?”  

 

“It was my dad’s at the time.”

 

This didn’t seem to console Sam in the slightest.

 

“And technically it’s mine now. I  _ am _ the oldest. But there was no way that we were going to be able to get the desk up the stairs and into my apartment, so here it stays. Mocking me with it worn mahogany finish, every time I visit.” Now he just sort of felt nostalgic. “The wood grain was always cool against my cheek.”

 

“...is the couch safe,” Sam looked at him like he no longer trusted anything, but still wanted a place to sit. “It wasn’t also an impromptu sex pad for your teenaged years, was it?”

 

“You know, for someone who was talking last night about getting me on my knees, and blitz kissed me a few months ago,  _ seconds  _ after learning that I was suddenly single, you sure are stick in the mud.”

 

“Stick in the mud?”

 

“A bit of a prude,” Nick bit his lip, trying to hold back a grin. “And it’s cute… just saying you surprised me is all.”

 

“I’m… I’m not a prude.”

 

“Sure, sweetie.” He winked, because he would keep Sam’s little secret. “Just understand that this  _ is _ my baby brother’s house. And I have some odd bit of sibling-respect for him. He trusts me. Asks me to house sit for him any time he travels. So... it’s safe to assume that I’ve been at least partially naked against at least fifty percent of every stable surface here.”

 

“Why?” 

 

“Because I have some restraint. Good god, man. I’m not a complete heathen.”

 

“No, I mean  _ why _ do I like you?”

 

A question for which there might be no answer, but Nick let his head fell back as he laughed. Happy that he wasn’t the only one who had fallen for someone he had no business falling for.

 

It took some convincing, but eventually Sam came over at joined Nick on the couch, though he left a healthy bit of space between them. “You’re a monster, you know that?” 

 

“Oh, what Cassy doesn’t know won't hurt him… or me.”

 

Sam just leveled Nick with a look that could have soured milk. Bitch face out in full force.

 

But Nick wasn’t interested in being looked down on from some exquisite moral highground. “Oh, like you’ve never even once been remotely inappropriate in a place that wasn’t your own.”

 

“That’s not the same as having sex in your brother’s house while he’s gone.”

 

“You saying that you wouldn’t?”

 

“Dean would…” Sam frowned in concentration as he ran scenarios for a moment. “Either be weirdly proud, or very disturbed, if he knew I’d done anything in or around things that he owned.”

 

Such proclamations tempted Nick something awful. All sorts of bad ideas coming to mind.

 

“Along those lines… um,” with a sigh, Sam sort of made little fists where his hands were resting against his knees. “Dean doesn’t really know about me being… into men. I’d appreciate it, if while he’s here, you don’t… _ you know _ .”

 

Nick did not know. “You... don’t want me to tell your big brother that you’ve propositioned me?”

 

Slightly scandalized, Sam’s eyes went wide. “I haven't.”

 

“You offered to make me dinner.”

 

“In what world do you live where ‘dinner’ means ‘I want in your pants’, Nick?”

 

“You saying you  _ don’t _ wanna’?”

 

“Of course I want to,” Sam’s cheeks burned a lovely shade of eight-year-old-girl’s-bedroom-wall-pink. “That’s not the point though.”

 

Nick may have been smiling a little too wide.

 

“Why did I think it was a good idea to bring this up?” Sam had resorted to talking to himself, a broken sort of wilt to his voice. 

 

“Because you  _ liiiike _ me.” He half sang, pulling his knees up onto the couch and edging closer to the defeated looking man beside him. “Don’t worry. I won't tell your big brother that you’ve got the hots for me.” As tempting as it was to stir up all kinds of trouble, that there was one of those things that you just don’t do to another guy. If Sam was still in the closet when it came to his family, then it was his choice of when to burst forth like the overly tall and masculine butterfly that he was.

 

And Sam had this beautiful, long suffering kind of look to him. 

 

Nick couldn’t help himself. Wouldn’t know when it was time to shut up if he’d set an alarm for it. “And your brother doesn’t ever need to know how, in a fit of passion, you threw me down on this very couch and ravished me.”

 

“That… did not happen.”

 

“Like a victorian lady getting railed by the ground’s keeper while her husband is off hunting with the lads.”  Nick’s teeth caught the edge of his lip as he tried to get Sam to see the potential here. “Skirts all over the place, bodice ripped, hair  _ disheveled _ .”

 

“Nick,” he could be so stern when he tried. “No.”

 

“Dishevel me,  Sam.” He placed a hand very high, but also very safely on the outer side of the other man’s thigh. “Dishevel me like one of your french girls.”

 

“I’m not having sex with you on your brother’s couch so you can keep up some weird and terrible tradition that you apparently have.” 

 

With a sigh, Nick leaned back, turning sideways and reclining against the armrest so he could face Sam. “Not even a bit of aggressive making out to help pass the time?”

 

“Pass the time until what?”

 

“Winston gets some drops an hour after he eats.” Nick could just barely see the potato shaped cat half way down the hall. All done eating, and busy cleaning himself in that attractive way that cats are so good at. “So, you’re stuck here with me.”

 

Really putting his foot down, Sam reiterated, “we’re not aggressively making out on this couch either.”

 

“Slow making out with some heavy petting snuck in in the middle?”

 

“No.”

 

“Cut me some slack here, Samuel. I mean, I am willing to negotiate but you’re not bringing anything to the table.”

 

A hint of a smile caused the littlest shadow along his right cheek. “Nick,” 

 

“Maybe another first kiss?”

 

Sam instantly softened, some silly sense of romance blooming over his face.  

 

“I mean, if I’m going to have to keep my hands to myself, and not even gaze longingly at your ass the whole time your brother is visiting,” Nick saw a chance and took it, “the least you could do is give me a little bit of sugar to tide me over.”

 

“... a bit of sugar?”

 

“Isn’t that what the kids are saying nowadays?”

 

“Nick, the kids who used to talk like that are now all in retirement homes.”

 

He couldn’t help but laugh. “What can I say? I’m an old soul.” Letting one leg fall off the couch, all open, and as inviting as he could make himself, Nick reached a hand out towards Sam. “Come’re.”

 

“I’m still not making out with you on the couch.”

 

“I didn’t say that we were going the whole way, big boy. Slow down. I just want a kiss. A good one. Something I can write about in my diary tonight.” 

 

It was Sam’s turn to laugh. Shaking his head and just letting go of all those nice solid pretenses and frowns. 

 

Nick licked his lips, watching the humor play over this man. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for someone to look as good as Sam looked when he laughed. And if Nick were a poetic man he might make some kind of sappy, romantic comparison to a sunrise, or northern lights, or some other nonsense. As it was, all he had was a very tangible want to be closer. To bask in all that lovely, unapologetic happy.

 

“Sam,” a lot of those same impulsive offers he’d had that morning started to surface again. Nick had to fight them down. Had to distract himself while he still had a chance. “Is that a yes or a no to a new first kiss?”

 

Such a long look did Sam give him. Smile still in place as his eyes trailed over Nick in an interesting kind of way before finding his eyes again. “I’ll make sure to get one in before Dean and Cas get here. But not on your brother’s couch. Stop trying to make the couch thing happen.”

 

Which sounded oddly more like a threat than anything else, and Nick sort of loved it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, may I present a chapter that never gets out of the car, soon to be followed by a later chapter that will contain more hot 'sitting in the front seat talking' action. 
> 
> awww yeah

That threat of a kiss came when least expected, as all good kisses should, Nick supposed. He’d driven Sam back home to his silly little rented room. Leaving behind that beautifully nostalgic desk, as well as the couch that he was never going to get a chance to break in properly. 

 

“This is your stop,” he pulled up to the curb, not even bothering to put his car in park. “Go on. Go pick up your text books or whatever it was that you said you needed to do today.”

 

“Books, mostly. And then seeing if I can’t find a place for Dean to stay when he gets here tomorrow. The other roommates have started to move back in for the upcoming semester, so I can’t just commandeer one of their beds for a few nights.”

 

“I’ve got a spare room-” Nick had no idea why he was volunteering this information. 

 

But the look on Sam’s face kind of made the willful surrender of his home worth it.

 

“Yeah? Really? That would be amazing. Yes.” He put a hand over Nick’s arm, his fingers sliding warmly over his wrist.  “I wanted to ask, but it’s a big favor and… honest, the idea of the two of you under the same roof for any length of time sort of scares me- but, thank you.” So quick to scoop up the offer. Sam must have really been stressing himself out over the predicament that he’d arranged for himself. Eager for any help.

 

Nick didn’t get a chance to ask  _ why _ it would be bad for him to spend any time with this brother. Or even to try and comfort Sam that really, he’d be at work most of the day, and Dean would probably be off with Sam doing whatever it is that regularly, well adjusted siblings do- so really him and Dean would have minimal interaction. Those thoughts and excuses were all cut abruptly as Sam leaned over the gear shift and stole a kiss.

 

Just one. Soft and a bit hesitant. Questioning little press of lips to the edge of Nick’s mouth. Then he smiled. Smiled from only inches away- looking as beautiful as ever.

 

“That’s it?” Nick pointedly did not hold his breath. It’s too impossible to maintain the proper levels of sarcasm when you're desperate for air. “I wait for hours and that’s all you got?” 

 

“You are such an ass sometimes,” Sam grinned; his hand coming off of Nick’s arm to catch his jaw. Thumb running slowly over his lower lip as he easily turned Nick to face him better. 

 

They shared a lingering look, a lot of expectation weighing between them as they both silently dared the other to finally make a damn move. 

 

“This is stupid,” Nick announced once too much time had passed, earning a short chuckle from Sam. Short because it was apparently too difficult to laugh properly when Nick grabbed him by the front of his stolen tshirt and dragged him into a slow, open mouthed kiss. The sort that lasts just a touch too long and you come out of it feeling a bit disoriented and breathless. The sort of kiss that you want for a first time with someone new. Someone that you’ve been thinking about kissing for possibly weeks now. Very satisfying, and not coming on too strong or fast… just enough to say ‘hey, you. I like you.’

 

Or perhaps that was simply Nick putting too much weight on a simple smooch that didn’t even have any tongue. 

 

“Was that a bit better?” Sam whispered, like they were somewhere and somewhat more intimate than the front seat of Nick’s car in the middle of the afternoon.

 

Chuckling in a way that slowly trailed off into a soft  _ hummm _ , Nick leaned into the other man’s hand that still rested warmly against his cheek. “Aren’t you the least bit worried about kissing in cars with boys where your roommates might see you, mister still-deep-in-his-closet?”

 

“Only with my family. My brother and my uncle… they’re a bit more old fashioned.” He leaned in and nipped lightly at Nick’s lower lip. “The roommates though, I really couldn’t care less what they think.”

“I like a man who's got his priorities figured out.” Reluctantly, Nick leaned back into his seat, very pointedly looking out at the sidewalk. “But conservative town and all, even with you being built like you are, looking like you could snap a man’s neck if you weren’t so damn polite- you’re going to catch shit for kissing boys in broad daylight.”

 

“You will too.”

 

“Do I look like I give a good god damn what some college yuppies think of me? No. But you’ve got to live with these mama's boys… just saying.” Nick was trying to do the right thing. The two of them were, after all, in full view of the house where Sam was living. There was no sense in making the upcoming semester eight kinds of uncomfortable.

 

And it didn’t seem to matter how Nick was expecting of the other man to react. Or what his head told him was the usual answer to follow in the wake of a big and terrible ‘maybe we shouldn’t right now, right here’. 

 

Sam just seemed to be the kind of person who ran on his own courses.  “You want to go out tonight?” He asked like it was the most logical next thing. 

 

Nick blinked and turned away from the window to watch the man beside him fidgeting with the seatbelt across his chest like an awkward teenager.  “Go… out?”

 

“Yeah. Out. You know, like normal people do.”

 

“...like a date?”

 

Sam’s shoulders pitched forward as he bit off a chuckle. “Yes, Nick. A date. Again, like  _ normal _ people do.”

 

It was probably a bad sign that Nick couldn’t remember the last time he had a date. Sex and food afterwards had worked fine for him and Balthazar, but no one would have really qualified any part of those two years worth of mutually assured destruction as proper  _ dating _ . 

 

“What, uh… what did you have in mind?”

 

With a grin like he’d won, Sam lost the majority of his earlier unease. “They’re doing this classic movie thing once a week at the old drive in. Tonight’s a double feature,  _ Jaws I  _ and  _ II _ .”

 

_ Jaws _ was sort of his favorite movie- and Nick covered that up as best as he could. Teasing  lightly because it came more naturally than other emotions would have. “That’s... oddly specific there... that little idea just pop into your head, or have you been planning this?” He put undue amounts of stress on the end of the question, like he found the whole thing simply  _ adorable _ .

 

Sam’s hair fell in his face while he looked down at his lap for just a moment. “I’ve sort of kept a running list of upcoming things for the past two months. Stuff that you and me could do together if I found a good time to ask you.”

 

Easy as it was for him to say those few words, they simply broke whatever underlying restraints that had been keeping Nick in line. He  _ clicked  _ his seatbelt undone and came half out of his seat so as to better take Sam down very roughly into a kiss. The sort that promised bruises and so many other things if given enough time. Hungry and needful, it took every last whatever was in Nick to keep himself from crawling into Sam’s lap.

 

Because who the hell plans months’ worth of possible dates, just in the off chance that they thought they might at some point find a day and time that the other person looked like they might say  _ yes _ if asked?

 

Sam did, apparently.

 

And Nick thought that maybe in that moment that he might have fallen in love with him. 

 

But that’s not a gut reaction that you put words to if you’d like to continue being regarded as a rational individual. So kissing the man like they were old lovers reunited after a war was really the first vaguely appropriate response that came to Nick’s mind. And he stuck with it. Mouth pressed to Sam’s as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. Though it left him gasping and staggered when it ended. 

 

Sam pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against Nick’s. The occasional traffic passing them the only real sound for nearly a minute. And when someone should have said something, because words needed to be exchanged after an unprecedented bit of sexual aggression like that one, Sam apparently thought it better to just slowly find his way back to Nick’s mouth. Just a few of those open mouthed kind of kisses that are painfully slow and exploratory.

 

And, not at all surprisingly, Nick was down for it. Had not even a single complaint to the contrary, because knotting his fingers through Sam’s hair while catching the man’s lower lip between his teeth was sort of … life ruining… but in a good way.

 

A mood that was only spoiled when, from somewhere on the sidewalk outside an older woman loudly told them to find a room, with the added note that they might be degenerates.  

 

Sam bowed his head, laughing, turning pink all the way up to his ears. And Nick just sat back in his seat, remembering the all the right ways to breathe.

 

“So... that’s a yes on the movie then?”

 

Closing his eyes tight, so that he could savor the lingering taste of Sam on his tongue, Nick felt himself smiling. “I mean… if you want to.”

 

“Castile said it was your favorite.”

 

That made some kind of sense, and easily kept Nick smiling like a fool. Oddly pleased that his brother had decided to overstep some boundaries and share things that weren't his to share. “Yeah, well…”

 

“I should be done with my school stuff by four-ish? We’d have time for a quick dinner before the movie.”

 

Like a real and proper date.

 

And even though the response to that felt like it should be to leave bite marks in Sam’s neck- Nick carefully folded his hands over the steering wheel. “Then it’s a date, you romantic moose.”

 

A small, surprising kiss was pressed to his cheek before Sam opened the passenger door and got out onto the sidewalk. He waved at Nick with almost too much enthusiasm before jogging up the littles steps onto the porch and into the house. 

 

Quietly, Nick sat in his car, long after he should have pulled back out onto the street and taken himself home. Just idly wondering what it would be like to wake up every morning with that man beside him. 

 

Those were the sorts of thoughts that you can lose yourself in.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi.  
> still never really know what to say in this box. And I think to myself that I could just put nothing here. I mean, you didn't click to read my short shifty eyed rambling, but I mean... the box. I got to say something. Y'all were nice enough to come my way for more chapters of this unexpectedly not slow burn slash. I can't get here and not say a big thank you for all your continued support of these goofy stories. Especially one that has like 80% less man drama and angst than all my other stories.   
> We all know that you are here for the man drama, and this story isn't really delivering.   
> But what can I say?  
> I'm enjoying it.   
> Sometimes you just need to kick back and write some brain fluff.

 

“Stop smelling me.” 

 

“I’m just petting the cat.” Sam’s toothy grin said otherwise, but he gave Winston one last chin scratch before retreating to the far side of the room. “Weirdo.”

 

Nick did his best to balance his shoulder cat, cut vegetables, and not smile too encouragingly. It was difficult.

 

“It is a nice cologne though.” Sam leaned his long frame against the old desk, looking so very at ease as he perched like some kind of uncomfortably sexy college professor.

 

With some grim determination, Nick struggled to stay focused on the task at hand. Afterall, holding a knife was not the ideal time to get distracted by such gloriously long legs. “It’s just aftershave.”

 

“Aw, Nick.” Sam crooned. “You shaved? Just for me?”

 

_ Maybe _ . But if he had, there was nothing wrong with that. “Just figured that I’d be a gentleman for once and not actively make it my goal to give you stubble burn on your more delicate parts later tonight.”

 

A sound like a startled bird was ripped from Sam to only devolve into some very weakly restrained laughter.

 

Veggies were dumped into the skillet on the stove as Nick grinned, very happy with the response he’d been given. It wasn’t every day that he managed to shake a laugh like that out of someone.

 

Now, a normal person would have taken a moment to clarify that they’d only agreed on a movie, and nothing that would entail ‘delicate parts’- but Sam just shook his head and kept on going. Probably just doing his best to ignore the loud and inappropriate offer. “You know… when I said dinner before the movie, I didn’t mean that you had to make it.”

 

“It’s only yakisoba,” veggies, noodles, a bit of meat, and some store bought sauce. There was nothing special going on over here. “It’ll be done faster than we’d be able to get seated in a restaurant and place our orders.”

 

“I had no idea you even knew how to cook.”

 

“If you’re going to get your panties damp over some next level top ramen, I’m not going to have to aim all that high to impress you.” And the cat on his shoulder had started looking a bit too interested in the food on the stove, so Nick leaned over the counter and gently shook the animal off. “Which is a bit of a relief- because this here is me trying just about as hard as I can.”

 

“... you’ve drooled on me in your sleep.” Sam showed a flash of teeth, “if there was a window during which you needed to impress me, it would have been before that.”

 

“Well, damn,” he laughed though. “Guess I really screwed the pooch on that one.” Stirring the food and keeping an eye on the cat, he almost missed the way that Sam struggled for a moment in his corner. 

 

Abandoning a few thoughts and eventually just shaking his head and pulling his phone out, Sam claimed a bit of thinking time to himself. Which was fine. Nick was stirring with a big wooden spatula, occasionally stabbing at an onion to see if it had cooked through enough to add the noodles to the pan. The whole dish was about timing, and he appreciated the moment to simply focus on not burning the food, right up until- 

 

Sam cleared his throat while still jamming his thumb on the screen of his phone. “You, uh, sort of had me dead to rights the first time I saw you.”  

 

The package of noodle tore funny and Nick ended up having to quickly pick them up from where they’d fallen all over the counter. Dumpring them by the handful into the waiting pan and pointedly not saying anything because nothing at all came to mind wasn’t either sarcastic or sentimental. 

 

“You didn’t point out that I was tall. You didn’t make small talk. You didn’t even ask my name. You just told me to pick my damn pie and get out... promising me life changing desserts, and overcharging me.” He sighed in an almost nostalgic kind of way, seeming to enjoy the memory far more than he should. “That and… you’re also the first person I’ve ever met that I didn’t have to stoop down to kiss- so consider me thoroughly won over… the cooking dinner thing is just a bonus.”

 

“It’s pretty much one of the only things that I can cook,” Nick was grateful for a stove to focus on. It kept his head down. Made it a hell of a lot easier to hide the heat burning his cheeks. “So don’t start getting any big ideas.”

 

Sam glanced up from his phone, peering through the fall of his hair. “You saying that it’s my job to make us breakfast in the morning if I don’t want more noodles?”

 

Stomach doing a funny little flip flop, Nick took the pan off the stove, sort of mumbling out a, “we can steal some pie from the bakery for breakfast.” He couldn’t tell if there was some mutual unspoken agreement on what would be happening later tonight- or if this was some exquisite teasing. 

 

Either way, Nick felt sort of giddy.

 

He loved the banter almost as much as he loved the uncalled for affection. It made him feel special- which is oddly not something that the past two years of his romantic life had ever offered him. Honest, he didn’t know how to really respond. Default responses seemed safest. Sarcasm and curling smiles did a lot to mask the off balance kind of sensation this conversation was giving him.   

 

“Pie for breakfast?” Sam managed to look a little sceptical.  “Really, Nick?”

 

“We’re adults. It’s our right to have pie at any time of day or night. And post-sex pie is some of the best kind of pie you can have… you can thank me in the morning.” Nick made sure to get a lid on the pan so that Winston wouldn’t help himself, then made his way slowly to where the other man had his lean on so very casually. “You know, we’ve already covered my feelings on this desk here.”

 

Sam just rolled his eyes, smiling slightly, but not looking up from his phone.

 

So Nick, not liking being ignored even in teasing, crowded in. Letting his thighs brush against Sam’s as he placed his hands flat on the desk on either side of the man’s hips. Trapping him in a wide and very loose sort of cage of limbs and bad intentions.

 

It was enough physical contact to take priority over reading emails, Sam’s smile curling as his eyes flicked up from the little screen. “Something I can help you with?”

 

“Nope.” He hummed softly and extracted one of Sam’s hands from his phone. Kissing his palm before guiding the hand to curve comfortably along the back of his neck. Trailing his fingers down the back of Sam’s arm, Nick realized he was in the perfect place to press a kiss to the man’s wrist.  “Food needs to cool for a bit.” He spoke against the very warm skin. 

 

Sam’s thumb found the little dip behind Nick’s ear, skirting the edge that lead into his jaw. “...how long is a bit?”

 

“A ‘bit’ is a standard measurement of time, Sam.” Nick carefully took the man’s other hand, the one still awkwardly holding his phone, and looped that arm down around his hips, liking the newfound weight at the small of his back. “Shorter than a while, longer than a sec’. Basic math here, big boy.”  

 

“Oh.  _ Basic math _ .” The edge of Sam’s eyes were crinkling. The slightest promises of crow's feet in a few years. “I see.”

 

“How they let you into college with such obvious gaps in your education is beyond me.”

 

“What can I say,” Sam bit back a grin. “The school had a certain average height to meet. I’m helping to balance out a few very petite students.”

 

With a laugh, Nick leaned his full weight against Sam, finding the perfect little spot on his throat to lay a kiss.

 

Against his lips and the tip of his tongue, Nick could feel Sam chuckle softly. And then he could feel Sam’s hand slide up into his hair. Fingernails dragging along his scalp. It was a distracting combination if nothing else, and Nick found it difficult to keep his hands firmly planted on the desktop and not somewhere more fun.

 

“So, we’re just waiting for the food now?” Sam seemed determined to pretend that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on. Just the two of them, leaning against one another. Close enough to taste- but here he was, asking about dinner.

 

“Maybe just a bit of snacking while we wait.” Nick whispered, lightly nipping along that soft, unprotected line of throat, because he knew that he shouldn’t, but more importantly, he knew that he was an ass and he had every intention of reminding this man of it, until he was told to knock it off. 

 

Apparently the bite was somehow unexpected though, because Sam’s fingers twitched and his grip tightened. “ ‘m not food.”

 

“Everyone is food, if you really believe.”

 

“This is  _ not _ one of those ‘clap your hands if you believe’, magical kind of moments, Nick.”

 

Grinning against the other man’s neck, Nick softly clapped his hands together behind Sam’s back, earning him a light squeeze from the arm around his waist. 

 

“No biting.” He warned with no heat or weight to it whatsoever.

 

“... or?”

 

Sam chuckled again, which really was just a fascinating experience when one was fortunate enough to be laying on him in a vertical position. “Or I will have to tell you again ‘no biting’. And I’ll use a very firm tone.” So firm. So stern. As he pressed his face into Nick’s hair, kissing softly while he laughed.

 

Naturally, Nick bit him again. Not really feeling like he’d been given any other options here. 

 

Sam made a soft clicking noise in the back of his throat, breath hitching. “I swear to god, Nick. If you leave teeth marks in my neck that I have to explain to my brother-” but the threat dissolved into a whimpered, “ _ fuck _ .” As Nick only bit him again. Much harder.

 

And what was meant to be a fun new way to annoy Sam fell apart rapidly as little expletives were whispered along his skin. Nick found that all he could do was kiss harder as he bit along Sam’s jaw, slowly making his way along a thudding pulse and up to a soft earlobe- finding just the right place to lay his teeth that made the younger man shiver.

 

“Nick, stop.” Sam seemed to insist, even though his phone had been abandoned somewhere, leaving his hand free to slip into Nick’s back pocket. Holding him close in a way that drew their hips nicely together.

 

Pressing his forehead into the soft curve of Sam’s shoulder, Nick took a deep breath. 

 

Oh, and Sam had no business smelling so nice. Sense memory being what it was, all Nick could do was think of that morning and waking up with his head resting on this man’s chest. Feeling taken care off and weirdly safe, when he didn’t even know that those were things that he’d been missing.  He messily mouthed along Sam’s shoulder, mostly teeth because he was grinning too much to really manage anything proper.

 

“I’m serious. We’re not fooling around on the desk.”

 

“... there’s a couch right over there…”

 

With another laugh, Sam may have actually hugged Nick. It was close and warm and almost too tight to breathe. “ _ Dinner _ , Nick. Then movie. Stop being weird about your brother’s furniture.”

 

“You never let me have any fun.”

 

Sam pressed his mouth against the top of Nick’s head. “Suddenly dinner and a move aren’t fun?” 

 

“Not as fun as some good old fashion fucking until one of us can't walk straight. No.”

 

And the word “ _ wow _ ,” was smothered into startled laughter and Nick’s hair. “Do you have any setting between ‘awkward flirting’ and ‘going to undress you with my teeth’?” 

 

In what world did this man live that you needed anything in between?

 

Those in between things were boring and slow.

 

The more Nick thought it over though, the more he realized that old bad habits shouldn’t be punishments for new good friends. Pumping the brakes might not be a bad plan. Charting new friend-territory and all… boldly going where they hadn’t ever planned on going before. They weren't really in a hurry. 

 

Nick wouldn’t take all the blame here though. “You are the one with his hand on my ass. I’m just following your lead.”

 

Sam used that hand on the back of Nick’s head to steer him so easily. Tilting him upwards and touching their noses together. “Then follow me to food. Follow me to the movies. We can pretend to be normal people with a normal interest in each other a few hours.”

 

“You do know that getting me alone with you in a dark car for a few hours is…” his thoughts got muddled as he found himself hyperfocusing on the way the other man’s breath tickled against his mouth. “...gunna be honest with you. I will be getting very handsy at some point.”

 

Sam was a crusher of dreams and fantasies. “I don’t want to burst your bubble here, but you do realize that we are both far too tall to do anything too exciting in your cute little,  _ tiny, _ economy car, right?” 

 

A smile caught Nick off guard and he found himself just dumbly gazing up at this man who was still holding him so tightly. “No imagination. That’s your problem, Sam. You’ve just gotta learn to get a bit more creative is all.” 

 

.:.

 

Dinner was just alright (regardless of the nice things that Sam had to say about it). 

 

Getting a popcorn to share at the concession stand before walking back to the car together was also nice. 

 

Five minutes into the movie getting caught up in a popcorn throwing war that lasted only seconds but would inevitably mean that Nick would be finding sad, dry kernels under the seats for probably years to come, was unexpected. 

 

Eventually laying both the front seats as far back as they would go, to the point that the movie screen was hardly visible through the windshield, was weirdly comfortable. 

 

Talking about nothing, in the dark while listening to  _ Jaws _ through the car’s little radio tuned into the grainy AM station, was better than it should be.

 

The hand holding though? 

 

That was just weird.

 

From where he was practically laying, Nick could just make out the top of the movie screen, blue skies and the pointy top parts of a boat bobbing together while the voices of men coming through the radio argued loudly. Idly he ran his thumb over Sam’s knuckles. Not at all sure how to feel about the way that their fingers were laced together.

 

“Why?” He asked softly once he finally found his nerve.

 

Sam’s head turned a little. Nick could just make out the movement from the corner of his eye.“Why what?”

 

“Why this?” He raised their communal hand-unit, holding it up to the warm glow of the movie.

 

“It’s… so I can get at your fingers more easily?”

 

In god’s name, “... why?”

 

“For kissing?” Sam offered up after an overly pregnant pause. Then demonstrated by lightly brushing his lips along the uneven line of digits. 

 

“Why are we kissing my fingers?” He wasn’t complaining. He just wanted a little peace of mind. 

 

Sam was smiling, breathing hotly over the back of Nick’s hand, nuzzling the sensitive skin lightly with those wicked lips of his. “It’s the only part of you can I easily reach.”

 

“I’m willing to rearrange-”

 

“Don’t make it weird.” Sam chided him. 

 

It was a challenge if Nick ever heard one. But apparently after months of knowing each other Sam had learned to be quick to pick up on small shifts in mood. He twisted their arms, sort of locking their elbows at a funny angle, using their joined limbs as as a blockade against any possible shenanigans. 

 

“You stay on your side.”

 

“Or?” Nick twisted his wrist side to side, strangely happy at being so easily thwarted.

 

“No  _ ‘or’ _ . You’re just going to behave yourself for once.”

 

“And watch the damn movie like a normal person?”

 

“Well… I wouldn’t say it quite like that,” Sam grinned, relaxing their arms and pulling them his way to rest their hands against his chest. “But yes. Watch the damn movie, Nick.”

 

“Like a normal person would?”

 

In way of answer, Sam flattened their hands against his chest, resting his own on top of Nick’s. “Yes. Just like a normal person and his boyfriend would.”

 

If there was something that he was  _ supposed _ to say to that, Nick would be damned if he knew what it was.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as promised, more sitting in a car and talking  
> you know what happens in the next chapter?  
> do you?
> 
> if you guessed more man feelings in a car, you win a prize  
> guess what the prize is?  
> guess!  
> did you guess even MOAR car snuggles?
> 
> Well if you did then you'd be wrong.   
> Next chapter finishes off the epic four part car saga and we finally get our feet back on the ground so to speak. But you will soon be receiving a chapter 19 that has some stealth man-kisses, uncomfortable confrontations between brothers, Nick making good choices, and oddly more sharks...  
> it was Shark Week when I was writing these next few chapters  
> I'm (not) sorry

If  _ Jaws _ was a masterpiece of cinema, then  _ Jaws II was _ …well, for a sequel it wasn’t bad. Couldn’t have stood on it’s own, but at least there was an attempt made for a decent movie. (Unlike  _ Jaws III _ which was an unmitigated disaster that Nick liked to pretend didn’t exist.) It meant that he didn’t at all feel bad for distracting Sam from focusing on the second part of their double feature.  Up on the movie screen there were kids running around a beach. Lots of quiet  panic coming through on the radio. It all got sort of lost as background to their idle talking. 

 

“You talk about him like he’s some kind of superhero.”  

 

It was a night fueled by Sam’s easy smiles. “Dean’s pretty far from perfect, but he’s one of the best people I know… I think that all little brothers feel that way about their older siblings.”

 

Nick frowned, lightly running the tip of two fingers over the collar of Sam’s shirt, skirting the soft skin of his throat. Maybe that’s how it worked for some people, but if his younger brothers ever thought of him as anything  _ amazing _ , it was most likely just be an amazing pain in the ass.  

 

That line of reasoning must have been more obvious than he’d intended because Sam’s smile slipped into a grin. “You should hear how Cas talks about you. Like you could single handedly take over the world.”

 

An absurd notion that got a chuckle out of Nick.

 

“Or at least a small country.” Sam clarified.

 

“He does not.”

 

“He  _ does _ .” And Sam’s smile was a match light flash of teeth.

 

Any other day, and sitting beside any other person, Nick wouldn’t have chased the thoughts stirring at the front of his mind. “He and Gabriel were closer in age. They always got along better than me and either of them- even though Gabe was a holy terror.” He exhaled, long and a little too loud. “But Cassy is forgiving and doesn’t really have a whole lot of other options for favorite brother any more.”

 

“I don’t think anyone is as hard on you as you.” Sam sighed. The patterns he was drawing on the back of Nick’s hand with his fingers became erratic for a moment. “...I wish you saw yourself like we see you.”

 

“Eww.” Nick made a face. “Don’t say things like that. What is this, some after-school special? I’m obviously a- _ fucking _ -mazing.” A sentiment that he mostly believed on good days, but he also knew how to bluff his way through most discomfort, and there were times that it was very hard to tell the two feelings apart. “I’m just saying that there are hundreds if not thousands of better qualified older brothers… but I’ve been trying to do right by Cassy for years now, and we’re ...I think we’re doing ok now. But just ok. Don’t go trying to oversell it.”

 

With a murmur of amusement, Sam leaned over the gap between seats and bit a soft kiss against the edge of Nick’s mouth. “You remind me so much of Dean sometimes.”

 

Doing his best not to lick the tender spot on his lower lip, Nick made what he felt was probably an appropriate face of disgust. “ _ Eww _ again? But with more enthusiasm this time.” You don’t want a guy, who in the last hour made overtures of being your significant other, to compare you to his brother. 

 

“Not like that. Don’t be weird.” Sam slapped his hand lightly, doing his best to scowl as he leaned back into the passenger seat. “You two just both… you bull shit a lot to cover up a lot of other things.” 

 

“I take offence at that, sir.”

 

“I’m sure you do.”   

 

Arguing that he was just fine and obviously not bull shitting his way over any kind of insecurities he might have would have only made the opposite that much more obvious. So Nick looked out at his small swatch of movie screen and wondered when and why Sam had spent so much time talking to Castiel about him. 

 

Tracing long lines down the length of Nick’s arm, from fingertips to elbow, Sam let out a clipped breath. “Inappropriate topics to touch on during a first date?” 

 

_ First date _ …

 

That’s really what this was. Wasn’t it? 

 

“Hell if I know.” He squinted up at what he could see of the movie. “If I just met you today? Then I would kindly tell you to fuck off for bringing up my brothers, because I’m overly protective of them and they’re none of your damn business.  But… I mean… it’s you.”

 

“And I’m allowed to talk about them?”

 

“No,” Nick smiled faintly. “But I’ll forgive you for it, which I wouldn’t do for anyone else.”

 

“So generous,” came the soft teasing, but Sam let it drop. Obviously sensing that this was not going to go well if he pushed. 

 

But Nick didn’t like the silence that followed. Sure, it was comfortable enough, sort of had to be considering that his hand was still resting heavily against the other man’s chest while being gently petted in an almost absent way. That moment didn’t feel like one that needed to be savored in silence.   

 

Naturally, Nick chose to just say the first thing that came to mind, because much like his brother Castiel, he had long ago decided not to waste too much effort on a verbal filter. “... have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?”

 

With a startled laugh, Sam looked over. “Are you… are you quoting Batman at me?”

 

“Technically the Joker, but… maybe?” Nick loved the way that Sam was doing his utmost to give him a disapproving and confusing sort of frown, but it was completely undermined by the way his eyes had lit up. “What if I am?”

 

“I would ask you why…” a small grin had started, “but I’m sure you don’t have a good answer.”

 

“Got you to smile. Do I need more of an answer than that?”

 

And Sam laughed again. A noise too bright and happy for the small dark space that they sat in. “ _ Charmer _ .”

 

“Well, it is sort of my middle name.”

 

With a raised eyebrow Sam asked, “is it?”

 

“Yep. Nick Charm-the-pants-right-off-you Shurley. It says so on my driver’s license and everything.”

 

“How the hell do they fit that all on the card?”

 

“Very small font.” He explained with a wink. 

 

“Ah,” Sam nodded wisely as though it all made sense. He lightly took Nick’s hand from his chest, hooking their fingers together once again. “Just so you know, middle name or not, you’re not getting me out of my pants tonight.”

 

Nick found that it didn’t matter if Sam was joking with him or perfectly serious in that simple statement- because it was a perfectly fair declaration as far as he was concerned. A man had the first and last say of who got to rustle his jimmies. And Nick wasn’t going to argue.  Which wasn’t at all to say that he wouldn’t have argued if at any point in the near future he was given the chance to get Sam on his back and just really got to take the time to know him better. 

 

But seeing as how things were going so far, so nice and messy, a little unpredictable, but downright lovely at times. Sam didn’t look to be going anywhere anytime soon, so the usual heated rush that came with new relationships didn’t seem to have any place.

 

Still he had to ask, in the least accusing way that he could manage, “what about all that flirting earlier,  _ you tease _ ?”

 

A little look of relief passed over Sam. Obviously happy that this wasn’t going to start a fight. “My brother is coming in sometime tomorrow afternoon… I don’t know when, but I do know that I’m not going to be ready to try and explain to him why I’m naked in your bed.”

 

“Well… unless he’s  _ real _ stupid you probably wouldn’t need to do much explaining. He’d figure it out on his own.” 

 

“You’re not helping.”

 

“I’m sorry. Was I supposed to help?” Nick sort of loved laying here in the shifting light from the screen, just watching the way that Sam could manage a frown while still smiling. Happy but disapproving all the same. “Well… alright… um, how about some very slow and bruising kind of  _ love making _ , followed by a little pillow talk, maybe a shower and some fooling around, then you go home and sleep in your own bed. Waiting for your brother to show up in the morning like a good, and very responsible young man.”

 

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

 

“It’s a good plan. You wanted help. I’m helping by coming up with a very good plan.”

 

“I’m not your ex, Nick. You don’t just get to smack my ass and send me on my way when you’re done with me.”

 

Oh, but that was an unexpectedly low blow. And Nick must have tensed up something awful because Sam was suddenly squeezing his hand and half sitting up out of his seat. 

 

“Hey. Hey, that didn’t come out the way I meant it to.” So quick to apologize even if he didn’t need to. Adding an extra ‘sorry’ to the whole thing, Sam leaned down, curling over the driver’s seat and finding Nick’s mouth in the dark. 

 

For a second he lost himself, closing his eyes and sighing some half hearted approval at the distraction. His nose pressing into Sam’s cheek as he arched up, getting as much as he could from that kiss before lightly pushing all that very nice and well meaning man off. 

 

“You’re going to have to step up your boyfriend-game in the future, you beautiful bastard.” Nick lectured through a tight smile. “Because I’ve got to be honest, I’m not too impressed right now.”

 

And it was obvious that Sam knew he’d gotten himself in a bit of trouble, but still he asked with a smile, “anyone ever told you you’re real cute when you get mad?”

 

Mad probably wasn’t the right word for it. More irritated. Shaken at the unwilling reminder of the things that he’d been avoiding thinking about since this afternoon. “No. No one calls me ‘cute’. Most people have enough sense not to talk to me like that.”

 

Sam grinned. Fearless.

 

Biting his lip to hold back a smile of his own, Nick watched the other man continue to loom over him. Blocking his view of anything else in the world. “Now get back on your own side of the car and watch the damn shark eat the teenagers.”

 

“So...we’re not going to aggressively make out in the car?” Sam didn’t go back to his seat, choosing instead to continue hovering with that damned dimpled smile of his as he fed Nick back the same sort of questions that Nick had been giving him earlier in the day. 

 

“Nope.” He folded one arm over his chest, the gesture losing some of the effect that it would have had if he’d used both arms… but to do that he’d need to stop holding Sam’s hand. And should the time come that they were no longer linked together by their fingers, he would not be the one who initiated it. 

 

“Slow making out with some heavy petting snuck in in the middle?”

 

“Not if you’re going to go around comparing yourself to the son of a bitch that was in my bed just yesterday.” Nick shook his head, not willing to let go of that stubborn grumpiness that he felt at Sam’s misplaced words. 

 

Then it was Sam’s turn to make a face as he finally retreated to his own seat, letting their arms hang between them, slowly running his thumb over Nick’s knuckles. “... that  _ was _ only yesterday, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yep.” Nick stared blankly up at the screen. “ ‘m glad it’s you that I’m here with now. Wouldn’t trade you for all the fine British ass in the world. But if you’re going to go bringing him up then I’m going to be stuck here drawing very unfair comparisons between the two of you.”

 

“ _...mmm _ , not actually too worried about that.” Sam flashed his teeth for a second. A weirdly violent look to him in the dark. “I’m just not sure a guy like that can really measure up to me. I’ve probably got a good four or five inches on him… and I’m taller too.”

 

Which was as savage as it was an unexpected thing to hear from the man beside him. And if Nick had been laughing any harder than he would have missed when Sam so casually threw out, “if you don’t mind missing the end of the movie, you and I could probably duck out early.”

 

“Duck out early and what?” Nick felt his eyebrows creeping up as he swallowed down his laughter. He wasn’t quite done with being a salty Sandra over here, and Sam had already made it clear that sex was off the table for tonight. If they weren't going to be watching the exciting shark conclusion then he was a bit at a loss as to what the rest of their night entailed. 

 

“I figured that you probably got about five hours of sleep last night between our late drinking and you having to open the shop.”

 

“Sam… are you saying it’s past my bedtime?”

 

“ ‘m just saying that it could be.” 

 

As insulting as it was to be reminded that he was old and tired, Nick wouldn’t argue with a bit of sleep. “Am I dropping you off at your place?”

 

“...that’s up to you.”

 

A level of responsibility that Nick didn’t think he was ready for.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was done and good to go probably before I even posted the last one. But I didn't like it, so I deleted it and started over from scratch. And then a stunning wave crippling depression hit and I'm only now getting back to feeling human-ish.   
> Please be good to yourselves. Be good to each other. Enjoy stupid stories about stupid boys.  
> I'll be back here in my cave if anyone needs me

 

It was more difficult than expected to walk backwards up stairs, but seeing as Nick wanted to continue kissing Sam... backwards seemed to be the only way to keep moving. They stumbled together. Laughing between breaths. Grinning as they crashed into walls, Sam catching Nick as he tripped up and almost fell on his ass.

 

With warm hands cradling his face, Nick closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the other man’s. “At what point are you going to tell me no again?”

 

“Don’t know yet.” Sam confessed with a soft sigh. “We need to worry about that right now?”

 

“Just don’t want to get my hopes up.”

 

“Hopes and...  _ other _ things?”

 

“ ‘s too late for the other things, you beautiful bastard.”

 

Sam laughed. And Sam grinned. And Sam bit his lower lip. “Just keep walking.”

 

Nick did as he was told, very pleased at how the other man came up behind him on the narrow staircase, arms sliding around his waist, hands slipping up under his shirt while his mouth hotly found the back of Nick’s neck. Walking was delightfully impossible… well, maybe not  _ impossible _ but damn difficult right up until he found himself fumbling with his key and the lock. 

 

“Hate to say it,” he whispered, breath hitching funny as someone's thumbs hooked over the waistband of his jeans, “but you need to knock it off or I’m not going to be able to get this damn door open.”

 

Seemingly with every measure of reluctance, Sam put the smallest amount of space between them, standing one step lower and pressing his face between Nick’s shoulder blades. “You know… I think that we could avoid any weird bruises for our brothers to see if we do this with you down on your knees.”

 

They weren't going to be doing  _ anything _ even remotely like that tonight.

 

A simple fact that had been made clear earlier on, which meant that the words that mad bad ideas slither thought Nick like a living thing, were, in all likelihood only joking around. Still, once he found that he could focus on the door and his keys once more, and when he knew that he wasn’t going to let completely nonsensical words slip out, he managed to say, “you’re gunna’ have to at least buy me a drink before you start suggesting positions.” Nick slid the key into the lock, sighing a deep breath of relief at the small victory. “Also, you’ve already taken  _ tonight _ off the venue, so kindly stop being such a cock tease or kindly brace yourself to get thrown down as soon as I get you inside.”

 

Sam’s chuckle rattled along Nick’s spine, caressing nerve endings that he didn’t know that he had and simply removing most logic and higher brain function.  

 

“Don’t you go threatening me with a good time, Nick.”

 

“I just want to know what I’m getting myself into-”

 

“...what would you  _ like to  _ get yourself into?”

 

A man could only take so much. This was Nick’s limit. Any further and he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions.  “Go home,”  _ for the safety of everyone involved. _

 

“You drove me here.” Sam was still laughing. “You expecting me to walk home now?”

 

“I’m just expecting some consistency here.” He nudged the door open, dragging Sam along behind him with measured footsteps. “Either  _ yes _ , and such a good time will I show you- or  _ No _ , and fucking kindly knock it off- otherwise you’re just being mean.”

 

“I thought you liked  _ mean _ .”

 

“I like  _ confidence _ .” He looped his arms around behind him at broken feeling angles, sussing out the other man who still clung to his back with some misplaced conception of safety. “No one likes a tease, Samantha.”

 

“That’s not what your brother told me.”

 

What a strange thing to say. 

 

Nick made a face as he danced them through the dark apartment to the couch and rather unceremoniously pushed his full weight back, feeling Sam buckle behind him as they came down together. Then it was just the both of them shifting oddly as he sat himself onto Sam’s lap. Nick settling in and loving the lumpy backrest. “You and Cassy spend a lot of time talking about your kinks? Because that’s kind of hot, and incredibly disturbing to me.”

 

Sam’s breath uneven laughter tickled the back of Nick’s neck. “We talk a lot about  _ you _ , you ass.”

 

That was the kind of things that made Nick instantly uneasy. It’s not like he was a man of many secrets, but there were things that his brother knew about him weren't exactly public record, and there was no way of telling how much Castiel would have felt like sharing. No way of knowing just how far down the hole that had been dug for Nick went. “Well, that doesn’t sound fair. Talking about a man while he’s not there to defend himself.”

 

Sam’s arms slid around Nick as easily as if they did this sort of thing all the time. His chin coming to rest on Nick’s shoulder so he could speak in that low rumbling way of his.  “Seemed like the best way to go about it. If I’d asked you what type of guy you usually date I don’t think your answer would be very subjective.”

 

“ _ Oooh _ ,” Nick snickered softly.  “ _ Subjective _ . Bringing out the big words.”

 

“Your brother’s honest.” He tried to clarify as he pressed a pacifying kiss to Nick’s cheek. 

 

More amused than anything else, he relaxed, letting his legs fall open to rest comfortably on either side of Sam’s and placing his hands on the man’s arms that had come to be so very securely around his ribs. “And I’m not honest?”

 

Sam very deliberately tightened his embrace. “I think that he just has a less emotional opinion of your past relationships is all.”

 

That was probably true. But still, “what‘s he been saying?”

 

“Lots of things. He likes talking about you.”

 

“And?” Nick wanted to know only slightly more than he really,  _ really  _ didn’t want to know.

 

“And... over the past few months I learned to be uncomfortably aware of the fact that I am  _ not _ your type.” There was an unexpected tension in Sam that Nick might have missed if his hands weren't resting where they were. “But your brother talked me into… all  _ this _ any ways. So here I am.”

 

Castiel was the baby of their family. Nearly ten years younger than Nick, and by no means qualified to be playing matchmaker to anyone in any capacity. It would have been more frustrating if Nick wasn’t so grateful for the interference.

 

The tension remained, a soft kind of humm in the tightness of Sam’s hold on him even as he nearly cheerfully said, “he can be pretty persuasive… and so far I’m not sorry.”

 

“Could have picked some fucking better timing,” Nick grumbled. “ ‘m not complaining- because hey, you make an amazing chair- but your brother visiting puts a bit of a damper on the more fun options that this whole things opens up.”

 

“It’s just  _ one _ date, Nick. Not Pandora’s box of friend on friend sex.” 

 

There was no one with a proper vantage point to appreciate the grin that Nick found himself wearing as he asked, “then what was with you getting all  _ Mister Big-Hands _ on the stairs?”

 

Oddly, Sam didn’t answer that immediately. Taking an almost concerning length of time before finally confessing, “just trying to meet expectations here, Boss,” in a stilted whisper. 

 

“Expectations?”

 

“I’ve been trying to get your attention since January, Nick. Finally got it with your brother’s advice, but I’ll admit, it’s all a bit outside of my comfort zone.”

 

Leaning his head back so that he could give a generously skeptical amount of side eye to the man under him, Nick raised an eyebrow. He could just make out the overly earnest edge to Sam’s features in the wan street lights that came in through the windows. “Knock it off.”

 

“It worked, didn’t it?”

 

“Lemme make one thing very clear here, never-  _ Never- _ do anything with me that you aren’t one hundred percent into. I like you, Sam. You just how you always are. The you that kept wandering into my shop whenever he damn well felt like it, giving no fucks for the clearly posted hours of business. The you that has stayed up late with me on some pretty bad nights, that never once got too judgy other than to tell me to be less of an ass. The you that likes to play on the swingsets in the park when no one else is around. Not whatever weird expectations you have after listening to my brother’s horror stories about my fucking terrible taste in terrible men.”

 

“... they weren't all horror stories you know.”

 

“Any of them actually end well?”

 

“Not exactly, no. But they  _ were _ enough to let me know that I’m in way over my head when it comes to you.”

 

“You said so yourself, Sammy. It was just one date.” It was Nick’s turn to kiss an unguarded cheek, searching for some way to dispel whatever was going on here. Joking around felt about right.  “I’m pretty out of practice. I think it’s been about a decade since I last went out on a proper, first date that didn’t end in sex and then never seeing each other again… so be honest with me. Just how bad did I do tonight?”

 

Sam was surprisingly strong. Something that Nick always managed to forget about because it simply wasn’t a something that worked its way into their job. He was rather violently reminded though as the other man simply lifted him up and tossed him down on the couch beside him. Giving Nick just enough time to let out a startled yelp of laughter before Sam was laying down with him, half on top to conserve the very little space that they sofa had to offer. 

 

With a smile Sam rested his chin on the center of Nick’s chest. A comfortably, but heavy weight. “I’ve had worse dates.”

 

“You poor thing,” Nick would have smiled back but found himself overly fascinated by the way the other man’s head rose and fell with each of his sharp breaths. “Any of those inept bastards get the benefit of a second date?” 

 

“A few of ‘em. Yeah.”

 

“Does  _ this _ inept bastard?”

 

One of Sam’s legs slid between his, their hips notching together in a way that made it hard to tell if they were leaning more towards the sexy or sleepy side of the evening’s possibilities. Either was good- but there was no possible way to plan for both.

 

“If I say no second date, do I still have a job next week?” He asked with a laugh, teasing as he peered up at Nick through a curtain of hair that left his expression completely in shadow and made his eyes nothing more than the barest glint of reflected light. 

 

“You can keep your job- but I’m not giving you a raise.” Nick chuckled, slowly running a hand through Sam’s hair, finding his face and learning to appreciate the way that the heavy shadows played over his features.

 

“ _ No _ ?” Still laughing, Sam turned his head to the side enough to lay a kiss against Nick’s wrist. “That’s a bit harsh. I’ve got bills to pay. What’s a guy gotta do to get a raise around here?”

 

“Maybe work for someone who makes more money than a pastry shop owner for starters.” Nick had nothing if not good suggestions. Maybe it was the way that Sam’s mouth still rested easy along the steady pulse in his wrist. Maybe it was the late hour… sleep deprivation, or misplaced romantic tendencies that he’d been trying to repress for the majority of his life. He would never know what drew the words out of him, but lying there beneath Sam, Nick herd himself offering so simply, “move in with me.”

 

Eyes going a bit wide in surprise, a startled sort of laugh crept from Sam. “So… you skip flirting and move on to sex. When that doesn’t pan out then you skip the sex and go straight to cohabitating? If I say no then are you planning to propose?”

 

Where as that’s not where he’d intended to lead them, Nick could follow Sam’s rather wrong leaps in logic rather effortlessly. “I’ve got that spare bedroom, you walnut. Same one I’m giving your brother for the next few days. School’s expensive. I can’t change that for you. Can’t give you a raise. But I can remove the paying rent issue that you’ve got.”

 

A wonderstruck look claimed Sam as he fumbled for some kind of answer. “I-I don’t know what to say to that, Nick.”

 

“Say you’ll think about it. Don’t make it weird by answering right now- unless the answer is ‘hell no’ then just go for it. I’m old. I don’t need the suspense.”

 

Sam dragged himself up by his elbows, placing one arm rather possessively on either side of Nick’s head. All the better to loom over him and block out the outside lights, or the soft ticking of a clock somewhere on the other side of the room.  Until all that was left to Nick, in his rapidly narrowing view of the world, was Sam. 

 

Sam kissing him slowly. 

 

Sam’s fingers threading through his hair. 

 

Sam’s tongue teasing its way into his mouth. 

 

Sam’s cell phone going off.

 

“I should get that.” He pressed each syllable against Nick’s lips with an apologetic smile to keep the words company.

 

Nick didn’t whimper exactly, but the sound that he made was perhaps a little more needy than he would have liked it to be. He tried to follow after Sam, to resume those slow and precise kisses.  “No. That’s a terrible idea.” 

 

“It’s my brother calling.”

 

“Wow. I don’t care.”

 

Sam sat up. Rather comfortably straddling Nick’s hips as he pulled out his cell phone from a back pocket. “ _ Try _ . He’s got your brother with him- hey, Dean. How’s the drive?”

 

Living on a street of small businesses that all closed at a reasonable hour meant that there was no traffic or other outside noises to mask the other side of the conversation. Still, the older Winchester’s voice was muffled and small through the little electronic device. Mumbling some kind of greeting and talking in a warm and happy cadence. 

 

Many things were said. Lots of those general unimportant sorts of things that pass for banter between two siblings. Every bit of it ignored by Nick in favor of fitting the palms of his hands over Sam’s knees, and up over his thighs, and around his hips. They were nice hips that were just the right size for his hands.  A fantastic warm slide of bone and muscles and denim as Sam shifted his weight in slow, subtle ways, smiling crookedly as he watched the far wall.

 

“I’m not complaining here,” Nick whispered as he notched his thumbs into the dent of the other man’s hips, “but if I’m going to get a lap dance I’d like to see a bit more enthusiasm.”

 

Choking on a laugh, Sam mouthed the words ‘ _ shut up _ ’  with no uncertainty. 

 

Nick wasn’t a fan of following directions though and chose to start humming the first inappropriate song that came to mind, rocking those borrowed hips between his hands and loving the open mouthed look of amused horror on Sam’s face.

 

Sing-songing in the softest way possible, Nick grinned through the words, “ _ taking more than her share, had me fighting for air, told me to come, but I was already there-” _

 

“Stop it.” Sam hissed. “No one lap dances to ACDC.” He had an almost angry whisper as he took hold of one of Nick’s hands, just holding his wrist, but not stopping the teasing sort of rhythm that they had. “What- no?” Sam squirmed under the sudden scrutiny that apparently was coming his way over the phone. “It’s just Nick. No. There’s no stippers- yes I’m sure- We were having an… academic discussion-  _ Shook Me All Night Long _ is a terrible strip song- Yes. That’s what I’m saying-  _ Talk Dirty to Me _ or  _ Cherry Pie _ would both be better, I’m not disagreeing with you- yes, ok. I’ll be sure to let him know.”

 

Nick laughed. Already liking this as yet un-met brother, despite Sam’s assurances that it would only end badly between them. 

 

“Yeah- yeah- wait,” Sam got a pinched look between his eyebrows, frowning suddenly. “You can’t say something like that and just assume that I’m not going to ask you questions.”

 

Nick frowned too and wished that he’d been paying better attention to the slightly garbled words coming through the phone. If there was cause for alarm from one of them here, then there was cause for alarm from both of them.  He half sat up, digging his heels into the couch and getting closer to the phone. “Is Castiel alright?”

 

Surprisingly quick, Sam laid fingers over Nick’s mouth, shushing him and turning the phone away to mumbled, “yeah… I won’t tell him.” Distant demands for a promise could be heard, and Sam just nodded along with an uneasy expression, looking sideways at Nick. “Yeah, yeah. I promise.” 

 

The answer to that sounded suspiciously like ‘ _ good, because apparently Cas is worried what his brother might do  _ ’- which was a terrible thing, and had to have been misheard.

 

“What happened?” Nick demanded through clenched teeth.

Sam gave the  barest shake of his head for the man he was sitting on, even as he continued to speak into the phone.  “You know when you’re going to be in tomorrow?” 

Rough answer that seemed to say sometime late afternoon, and then they were saying goodnight to each other, making excuses of it being past midnight now, whole day of driving to look forward to tomorrow,  _ blah blah blah. _

 

“What the hell happened?” Nick demanded around Sam’s fingers still resting against him, as soon as he saw the other man hit the end call button. 

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Christ, but you’re a bad liar.”

 

“Promised I wouldn’t tell.”

 

Nick squeezed Sam’s hips tightly. In the most threatening way that you can squeeze someone’s hips perhaps. 

 

“Cas doesn’t want you to worry.”

 

“You know the best way to make me worry? It’s to say shit like that.”

 

“Our brothers are fine.” Sam explained slowly and clearly like you would to a child.  “They are in Ohio. They had cheese burgers for dinner. Dean is going to help Cas pick out a new car once they get back in.”

 

“ _ Neato _ . And what’s the part you aren’t telling me?”

 

“Did no one ever explain to you how promises work?” Sam set his phone on the coffee table, freeing his hands up so that he could curl them over both Nick’s wrists. “I can’t talk about it.”

 

“There was no pinky promise. There was no ‘cross my heart and hope to die’.” 

 

Sam’s hands slid slowly up Nick’s arms, long fingers tracing the curve of muscle, the edges of his tshirt sleeves, cupping the angry slat of his shoulders, finally lacing together behind Nick’s neck, thumbs resting in the soft spot behind his ears. It was an overly sensual touch that lasted all of three seconds and ended in a glancing kind of kiss that was nothing more than a heated press of lips. 

 

“Don’t try to distract me from-”

 

Another kiss- and Nick may have returned it out of reflex… and out of enjoyment, because the inside of Sam’s mouth was so very welcoming. Too quickly though, he realized what was happening, and he pulled back,  butting their foreheads together. “Don’t-”

 

One more kiss and without really planning to, Nick’s hands moved from Sam’s hips to press into the small of his back, holding the other man as closely as he could while they found new and better ways for their mouths to fit together. Hungry and slow, and this time it was Sam’s turn to rediscover that there could be space between them, leaning back in a way that drove his hips downward and elicited and rough sound from Nick. 

 

“You going to be alright sleeping here on the couch with me again?”

 

It wasn’t that the couch was uncomfortable. Nick had taken weeks to find a long enough sofa that would actually comfortably accommodate his ample amount of legs for occasions when he felt like napping out here in front of the television. However, “there’s plenty of room for both of us in my bed.”

 

“Yeah, and are you going to be alright sleeping here on the couch with me again?”

 

Sighing, Nick laid back, using his hands to drag the other man down with him. “Anywhere you want to sleep, I’m going to be alright to be there with you.”

 

“The fact that you don’t mean to be so sweet actually makes it worse somehow.”

 

“I’m not being sweet.” Nick frowned, watching Sam lay his head down on his chest, settling in for the night apparently. 

 

“You too warm?” He asked so very casually.

 

“... no.”

 

“Am I too heavy?”

 

“No. You’re not too heavy.”

 

“You want me to turn on the tv so we can watch something while we go to sleep?”

 

The other alternative was laying there and watching the way that Sam’s head rose and fell, oddly overly aware of the fact that the other man could hear that way his heart was beating. “Yeah, find something good for us.”

 

The remote control was on the coffee table, just barely within reach of Sam’s long arms, meaning that he didn’t even have to sit up to turn on the TV.  Old Warner Brother’s cartoons were found, and the novelty of that choice pleased Nick almost as much as when the human blanket atop him grabbed up his left hand and placed it in the warm mess of his hair. Though it was a bit strange, Nick wasn’t going to say  _ no _ to laying there and petting Sam like an overly large cat that was slowly crushing him.  

 

“You know, I don’t think that coyote would actually know what to do if he ever caught the roadrunner.”

 

“Eat him.”

 

“Eat him?”

 

“That’s what they do.”

 

“This here is a coyote that has endless funds to purchase rockets, bear traps, paint to make fake tunnels- if he’s so hungry, he can just order out for pizza.” Nick shook his head, slowly making knots with his fingers in that nice soft hair. “I think it’s got to be something personal going on between them.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

That  level of doubt and sarcasm brought them into a half an hour long debate over what a bird possibly could have do so wrong to earn such a vendetta against him. Sam’s rebuttals came fewer and further in between and Nick had no idea which of them passed out first.  He only knew that once tomorrow snuck up on them, with its aggressive amounts of sunlight and haunting promises of brothers who would ruin everything, that he wished he’d pushed to stay up a bit later.

 

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working hard on that whole 'feeling human' thing.
> 
> It's super frustrating for me, knowing how this story ends, but not being in a good mental place where I can find the words. It all comes in tiny bursts. But I'm getting there!
> 
> thank you guys for your patience while I sort of sit on my side of the internet and gaze deeply into the void.

 

If Sam was even half as smart as pretended to be then he would have put some real effort into keeping a firm buffer between his brother and Nick. If there was one thing that Castiel’s small kitchen didn’t not need, it was two sarcastic, yet charming sons of bitches.

 

Nick didn’t like the competition- among many other feelings that he struggled not to voice.

 

From where he sat, sullen and neglected on his brother’s couch, Nick could easily witness the nonsense going on in the kitchen, every second of which he felt intense resentment for. The older and shorter of the two Winchesters was dutifully cutting up mushrooms and bell peppers as he’d been instructed to by Castiel- and Castiel, who was supposedly making pizza as he orchestrated dinner for the four of them, had abandoned the pale dough he’d been kneading in favor of leaning on the counter and just watching Dean talk. 

 

Sam was sitting backwards on one of the dining room chairs close by, doing the very same thing.

 

Just watching his brother with this look of wonderment.

 

And there was Dean, soaking it all in. Grinning and laughing in the most charismatic, endearing way possible,  basking in the attention while he told some story about something that Nick wasn’t even half paying attention to. The screen on his phone had long since gone dark from inactivity, though Nick still held the small pretense of something more important to do firmly between his hands. Elbows resting on his knees so he could look heavily preoccupied while he silently found new things to not like about this handsome, friendly fellow who was making Sam laugh and Castiel smile.

 

_ Smile _

 

The odd little hook at the left corner of his mouth that he usually reserved for honey bees or fat cheeked babies, was being thrown around tonight like confetti at a parade. An expression that looked so out of place with the greenish-purple bruising around his eye and nose, and the dark line through his split lip. Injuries that would heal quickly that looked more like they’d come from a fist fight than from a car accident. But a smile was a smile, and on Castiel it was… unsettling. 

 

The whole thing felt unnatural.

 

And a bit lonely from where Nick sat on the outside of the conversation looking in. He could have joined them. He’d been invited too. But he knew that he’d have one hell of a time inconspicuously seething dislike for the man if they were standing elbow to elbow.

 

“Oh, Nick went to one a few years back.” Castiel was saying, dragging his brother into a conversation that he’d wanted nothing to do with. 

 

“Yeah?” Dean turned those faint freckles and stunning smile towards the couch. “Dude, which one?”

 

It would take more than a smile and seemingly genuine curiosity to win Nick over however- especially considering that he didn’t have a clue what they were going on about. “Which one what?”

 

Castiel idly prodded at the lump of dough as if just remembering that he was meant to be doing something with it. “That fifty year car anniversary thing that you went to in Las Vegas.”

 

“The Mustang car show?” A hot and sweaty trip to Nevada that he’d taken with a now ex who’d had a thing for out of date vehicles with shiny new paint jobs. “What about it?”

 

“I just got back from Deadwood Nights a week ago. Huge car show back at home.” Dean’s grin was a lot like his brother’s. This whole body affair that did wonders for everyone lucky enough to see it. The bastard.  “Sammy here used to come with me and Bobby every year until he left for school.”

 

_ Sammy _ turned in his chair to shrug at Nick and mouth ‘ _ it’s not really my thing _ ’.

 

“My boyfriend dragged me with him… it was alright I guess.” If he was going to have Dean sleeping in his apartment for the next few days then he felt that the man deserved to know possibly the two most important things that there were to know about Nick. Firstly, he really liked having sex with other men. Second, if they were going to try having any sort of polite conversations then they sure as hell needed to not be about cars because he wasn’t going to be able to hold his own.

 

Oddly Dean already seemed to know about the first of these important traits. “Is this the same son of a bitch you dumped recently?”

 

There were only two people who could have shared this personal information, and Nick thought it quite fortunate that they were both here in the same room. It made staring them down so much easier when he could do it all at once.

 

“No.” He palmed his phone and finally got to his feet, wondering if he lent a hand perhaps they could finally get this diner thing underway and possibly take the focus back off of him. “That would have been four sons of bitches back actually - I’m starving here. Is there something I can do speed up this food situation.”

 

“Yeah.” Dean set down his knife, still comfortably wearing that toothpaste commercial smile of his as he briefly held up his cast like a reminder.  “You want to take your two working arms and be in charge of the vegetables, be my guest, man.”

 

Nick was willing to take up the task. Doing his best to not look too pleased as he took Dean’s spot at the counter beside Cassy. “Or instead of ruining a perfectly good pizza with plants, we could just toss them trash where they belong.”

 

“Your protests have been noted.” His younger brother resumed pressing out the neglected dough as if he hadn’t just spent the last fifteen minutes gazing up at the older of the two Winchesters. “But like always, Nick, they will be ignored.”

 

“Just pick ‘em off.” Dean was pulling up a chair beside Sam, resting his cast on the table with an attention getting  _ thud _ . “It’s what I always do.”

 

A simple statement that only emphasised how new Dean was to this losing battle.

 

“You can’t pick them off.” Castiel scolded, looking offended at the suggestion. “Vegetables are a very important source of iron and vitamin C.” 

 

“Also, there’s no meat going into this pizza.” Nick mumbled as he chop chop chopped. “So unless you’re into plain cheese pizza and being lectured on healthy eating habits then you’ll just have to suffer through the plants like the rest of us.”

 

And suffer they did, even if Sam seemed to be enjoying himself in an oddly genuine way while the four of them (and one aggressive curious cat who remained undaunted no matter how many times he was shoved off the table) ate together. And despite Dean’s continued high levels of charm and bullshit all through the meal and on into the beers and short game of poker that followed, Nick found himself yet unconverted to the holy following. Which was more than he could say for Sam, who was obviously a lifetime member of the Dean Is Amazing club; or Castiel who apparently was ready and willing to sign up.

 

“No. Dude,” Dean had his bad arm around the back of Cassy’s chair, looking over the cards being held up for his expert opinion, “it doesn’t matter if they’re all spades, the numbers have to be in order or it doesn’t count.”

 

Eyes narrowing, Castiel rearranged his cards and showed them once more to the man beside him. His frown deepening when Dean only started laughing. “Should it be decending order, not ascending?”

 

“It’s got to go two, three, four, five, Cas. Not two, five, six, eight.”

 

“Consecutive?”

 

“Yeah, sure.  _ Consecutive _ .”

 

“But I don’t have those cards.”

 

“No, what you’ve got it a bad hand.” Dean set his own cards face down and pulled three of the offending cards away from Castiel, tossing them towards Sam who had dealt this round. “So we trade some in, we get some new ones, and we hope your luck changes.”

 

“Right,” Cassy nodded along like it was all so obvious now. “Sam, I need a three, four, and a seven please.”

 

“That’s not how it works.” Sam handed over a couple cards from the top of the deck.

 

With a sigh, the offered cards were picked up, Castiel showing them only to Dean before arranging them in with the other cards that he held, mumbling, “go fish is much less complicated.”

 

“You’ll get the hang of it, man.” Dean promised as he stayed uninvitedly close and helped strategize over the new cards in favor of ignoring his own. 

 

Nick was doing some similar ignoring, because cards were not important when there we just so very many strong and unfavorable opinions to form instead. Opinions that rapidly fled to the back of his mind as a very warm hand came down and settled heavily against his thigh. 

 

With a smile that was remarkably innocent, Sam tapped his knuckles against the deck resting on the table. “You good there, Nick?”

 

“Fantastic.” He pressed the words out from between his teeth, looking away from the odd scene of friendship and bonding taking place across from him, to actually look at the cards he was holding. They were, of course, far from fantastic. But they were playing for pennies, because Cassy didn’t own poker chips (shockingly), and Nick wasn’t all that worried about losing big tonight.

 

As unexpected as it was, that hand against his leg did wonders to ground him and take his mind off of pretty much everything else. Technically speaking, Nick lost spectacularly to those few rounds of cards that they played. All his pennies going to his baby brother who didn’t find a savant-esk understanding of the game so much as he just had a Dean expertly crafting each hand for him. 

 

Nick didn’t like losing. Not even to Castiel who just looked so damned happy each and every time. But it was very hard to care about the fact that he was out seventeen whole cents, seeing as Sam had set his fingers through a quiet exploration of every single inseam of Nick’s jeans during the course of the card game. All those very inconspicuous, under the table, slow touches served as some of the most fantastic distractions that he’d ever had the joy of suffering through. A game far more fun than poker was planning out what he could do to Sam later to make things between them even.

Compiling three very tidy stacks of coins in front of him, Castiel counted his winnings. “You did most of the work,” he inclined his head towards Dean (who for some reason still comfortably had an arm resting around the back of his chair), “would you like me to split my winnings with you?”

 

“That’s mighty generous, Cas. But I’ll let you keep your hard earned seventy five cents.”

 

“That is very generous of  _ you _ .”

 

“Hey, it’s what I do.” Dean folded his arms over his chest and leaned his chair back onto two legs. “I’m a generous kind of guy.”

 

Sam edges a little closer to Nick, whispering around the hand that held his beer, “he’s not really all that generous though.”

 

If one more person said the word  _ generous _ then Nick was going to throw something.

 

Dean smiled in a predatory sort of way. “I’m like Mother Teresa when it comes to this kind of thing, bitch.”

 

“Jerk.” Sam barked back, wearing a similarly violent grin- a family trait apparently.

 

The fact that Nick had been forbidden to kiss on Sam at any time during which his big brother and he inhabited the same state, suddenly seemed so much more unfair. Especially if Sam was going to go around smiling like that. Just like thost fingers idly tracing patterns over Nick’s thigh. So very, very unfair. 

 

It was going to be a long, slightly painful visit it seemed. 

 

The only solace to be found was in Nick’s mostly empty beer bottle. Pleased to have something tactile to take his mind off thoughts of Sam turning that vicious grin towards him, Nick pressed the glass smooth against his lower lip, letting the edge of his tongue toy with the ridge. A simple distraction and not a movement that was meant to cause any kind of stir amongst the other men at the table. But sure enough he found himself suddenly making some very heavy and strange eye contact with Dean- which was all the more awkward for the fact that Sam had decided to tighten his grip in a very pleasing, if not slightly possessive way.

 

“The friendly banter between you two brothers is as strange as it is sweet,” Castiel commented softly as he defended his winnings from Churchill's fat paws while the cat attempted to knock everything sideways. “But it’s late and I’m tired, so everyone needs to leave now.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean slowly turned away from Nick to give Cassy his full attention, laughter in his eyes. “It’s been a long day, I’ll give you that. Tomorrow you still up for car shopping?”

 

“You don’t have to. I’m sure you’d prefer to visit with Sam.” Logic and reason still the main force dictating what Castiel decided to say aloud.. “I’ll have Nick take me.”

 

“No offence, but you brother probably doesn’t know a tail pipe from a transmission.” Dean shook his head at the offer. “Those salesmen are going to see you and your Polly Anna routine coming a mile off, and they’ll take you for a ride.”

 

“It is customary to test drive a vehicle before you buy it-”

 

“No. Damn it.” Frustration evident in the beaten way that Dean tried to correct Castiel. It was obvious that this sort of thing had happened more than once before. “It’s a saying.”

 

Dean had Nick’s sympathies if nothing else.

 

“Well maybe so. But it’s a saying that doesn’t make any sense as a bad thing in reference to buying a car.” He scooped up his cat and stood, holding the big meaty ball of fur like a normal person would hold a baby. “You’ll need to be more thoughtful when you pick your metaphors in the future.”

 

“We’ll work on it tomorrow.” Dean promised and nodded to Sam. “Come on, Sammy. Let’s head back to your place.”

 

“Actually,” Sam left behind a cold place on Nick’s leg and lightly splayed his hands out against the table top. “I’m in a new place this semester. No guests.”

 

Unhappy reasoning crashed visibly over Dean. “I came all this way and you’re putting me up in a motel?”

 

“No,” Sam did an amazing job sounding innocent and sweet. “Nick actually has a spare bedroom that we cleaned up today for you.”

 

“Oh, well, “ after a moment of hesitation Dean nodded to Nick. “Thanks, man.”

 

“Hey, you brought my brother home in relatively one piece.” He shrugged it off, not wanting the attention. “We’ll call us even.” 

 

After a bit of car shuffling (Nick trusting his keys to Sam so the man wouldn’t have to walk himself home- and bravely agreeing to let Dean drive them back to his apartment), Castiel was given a one arm hug, Sam was given a friendly (and incredibly platonic) nod, and lastly Churchill received a firm ass pat. Then Nick was designated to wait unhappily beside the front door while he watched his bow legged ride home hug his boyfriend. 

 

He managed to not shout about the injustice of it all as he walked with Dean out to the beast of a car that apparently had made the drive all the way from South Dakota. It was sort of impressive. 

 

“Weirdly… this is pretty much exactly what I imagined that you’d drive.” 

 

“Something classic and sexy?” Dean unlocked the doors and got in.

 

“Something old enough that it should have been condemned by either the EPA or the DMV about twenty years ago.” He settled into his side of the enormous bench seat, pushing back the thoughts that there was more than enough room in this car to have some fairly intimate sex.

 

“She runs like a dream-” Dean instantly became defensive, “and if you say anything bad about her then your sorry ass can walk home.”

 

“Alright, alright.She’s gorgeous and roomy. I’ll give you that.” He buckled in and marveled at all the leg room. 

 

Directions home were easy enough, and Dean handled his sleek black boat on the suburban streets like he’d lived here his whole life. 

 

“Hey, uh,” the still relative stranger started and stopped, sort of fumbling over his words in a weirdly self conscious way that hadn’t been present at any point this evening. “So… your brother is a grown-ass-man who’s making his own life choices and all,”

 

“Yeah?” Instantly, Nick didn’t like where this was going, because no good story in the history of stories ever started off with words like those.

 

“And Cas made me make Sam promise not to tell you what happened last night-”

 

“Yeah. About that.” And aside from asking nicely if everything was ok, Nick had done his best to put off the third degree interrogation of Castiel until they could be alone at work in a day or two. It wouldn’t do to have non family members stand witness to him yelling at his kid brother with concern and anger. “I was trying to be civil and make a good impression by not throttling my brother in front of you, but what the actual fuck?” Nick meant it in a conversational and friendly sort of way, but his distress made the words a bit tight.

 

“Well I didn’t make the same promise. So, one big brother to another, couple punks tried to mug him last night.” Dean said it with the same clipped tone as if he was talking about his Sam. Oddly protective. “Those bruises,” he gestured loosely to his own face, “they weren't from the car accident. Some son of a bitch slammed his head into the side of a semi truck, from what he told me. Someone else pulled a knife on him. I didn’t get there fast enough to break any bones, but Cas sort of beat the ever loving hell out of all three of them and then shook it off like it was nothing. I mean, I think he’s alright. Seemed a bit out of it once we got to the motel, but it was also one in the morning and apparently he turns into a pumpkin around nine, so it might just have been because it was past his bedtime.”

 

“He does go to bed  _ freakishly _ early.” Was all that NIck managed at first. Sitting there sort of stunned at this information. It was rather obvious to him why his brother didn’t want to share last night’s happening. It was hard to find words suddenly through the blinding fury and fear. “We, uh, grew up in New York… not the nice upstate part. More like the shitty rundown parts you see in movies. This will be the… the third time Cas’ been mugged then. Last time he was with our brother Gabe.”

 

Dean was giving attention in equal parts to the road and to NIck.

 

“They both ended up in the hospital.” Nick heard himself talking, in a strangely out of body kind of experience. “Cassy got a few stitches. Gabe lost too much blood though.”

 

“Your brother told me about that, man.” Dean cleared his throat, interrupting that revrent kind of memorial quality of silence that had started to settle. “This morning, while we were driving… it just sort of came out.  ‘m real sorry to bring it up.”

 

“It was a few years back. Don’t… don’t worry about it. Just… aw, hell. We should have turned right on Glenn. Go ahead and make a U turn up here, because it’s all one way streets and it’s hell trying to get to my place the further along you go.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah,” Dean followed directions so very well. Rather audibly biting his lip in the now uncomfortable silence. “He’s alright though, you know. Headbutted a guy into a broken nose, and he’s got a right hook like a heavyweight champ. For such a strange and quiet little guy he doesn’t mess around.”

 

Truer words Nick had never heard, because he’d been acquainted more than once with the unapologetic force that his little brother could get behind a full swing. It was sort of comforting to know that their extracurriculars down at the gym hadn’t been a waste at all.

 

“Cas is, um… he’s a surprisingly tough guy under the whole weird, confused, nutty professor, act he’s got going for himself.” Nick said while Dean settled them into the parking lot beneath the unlit sign that read ‘ _ Three Brothers Bakery _ ’. Usually he made a point of not looking up at it just on principle. About two years ago Cassy had even suggested that they rename it to something a little more accurate, but Nick had declined. This damn bakery had been Gabe’s brain child in the first place. It wouldn’t have been right to change the name. Something about honoring the little jerk’s memory, or something else equally sentimental that Nick still didn’t want to put words to. “Thanks for being there with him though.”

 

“He didn’t need me for nothin’, man.”

 

“Still… one big brother to another.” Conversations like this were considered a form of torture in some places. “Thanks.”

 

“Yeah, well. Anyone ever pulls a knife on Sammy, when you two are together, I expect you to stand back in awe as he drops some sons of bitches- but also to step in and fuck ‘em up as necessary.” Apparently Dean was a man of simple wants and needs.

 

For what it was worth, all instant dislike aside, Nick could respect that.

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all significantly longer in my computer, but breaking it up here feels about right? A nicely contained scene and maybe not a proper chapter, but hey. What are we going to do?  
> Can you tell that I'm putting off things I should be working on?  
> I've reached the optimum balance between procrastination and feeling 'ok' that gets me back in a writing mood <3
> 
> Thank you guys for the bit of love after the last update. I always feel super guilty when I haven't posted in a while, so it's good to be welcomed back

 

“Is it ok with you if I get a quick shower?” Dean was still shouldering a well worn army issued duffle bag that looked like it had been first deployed back in the fifties. “Two days on the road and I’m starting to smell like ass.”

 

The apartment wasn’t large. You could see pretty much the whole thing by from the outside hall. It removed any need for a grand tour. So Nick just nodded towards the bathroom, “knock yourself out. When you’re done, your room’s going to be the first door on your right.”

 

With a mumbled thanks and a politely tight lipped smile, Dean sauntered off to go and scrub away the odour of his two day drive in the summer heat. 

 

Nick circled the kind of stuffy apartment, opening windows to let in the evening breeze, before settling onto the couch with a very moderate and responsible little glass of whiskey and some accounting books from the shop. As a way to spend his evening, this wasn’t even half as nice as the night before that he had spent pressed up against Sam… but it would do. It was certainly a more  _ normal  _ way for his day to wind down if nothing else? A little bit of normalcy was probably a good thing.

 

White noise of water running in the other room and the warm burn of whiskey on the back of his tongue, Nick finally started to settle down and ease himself out of the stress that dinner had put on his shoulders. At least that had been the goal right up until Sam started texting him.

 

- **reminding you not to please not talk to him about this afternoon**

 

With a chuckle Nick read those words, his thumbs composing a quick and teasing answer of,   **-too late. told him all about it and showed him the pictures**

 

- **what pictures?!**

 

Laughing to himself, Nick quickly doodled out some incriminating stick figures in the margins of his ledger book before taking a picture and sending it to Sam.

 

- **you diagramed it out for him? Nice** Tone didn’t carry in typed words, but amusement and relief buoyed Sam’s text.

 

- **seemed less fun but sort of safer than a dramatic reenactment.** A joke on Nick’s part, but it was a joke that unwillingly lead his mind very briefly to a place that he hadn’t ever intended for it to go. Which wasn’t saying that he suddenly was willing to push aside his dislike for the man in his shower- but… there was no denying that the attractiveness genes were rather dominant in the Winchester family… and Nick sort of had something for attractive sons of bitches, that he rather would not explore in that moment.

 

- **but no. I didn’t tell him we made out on his bed. none of his damn business**  Nick redirected his thoughts rather quickly. Making promises that didn’t need to be made, because he’d already agreed the night before that Sam’s sexuality was none of Dean’s damn business until the time that Sam decided that it was. Nick had no intention of being the bearer of that particular news.

 

Not his beans to spill, as far as he was concerned.

 

- **good man.** Sam’s simple words somehow conveyed that sort of gentle warmth that he did so well.  **you going to bed?**

 

- **yee. unless you were wanting to sext for a bit??** Because Nick was down for some indecent overtures.

 

But Sam didn’t answer immediately.

 

There was no way to tell if that was a good sign or not. Knowing Sam though...

 

Nick took the extended silence as a soft ‘no’ and simply set aside his phone, took a slow sip of his drink and went back to adding up the grocery bills for downstairs- sparing a small smile for the sexy stick figures that now graced the page.

 

Having lived alone for nearly five years, aside from the occasional overnight guest, Nick had grown surprisingly accustomed to being alone. Comfortable in his empty apartment to the point that seeing the shadow of someone walking down the hall where there shouldn't be anyone walking anywhere, gave him a minor coronary. 

 

“Holy  _ fuck- _ ”

 

Dean started laughing, back stepping from his way into the bedroom that was temporarily his. “You forget I was here?” That damnably charming smile of his firmly in place. 

 

“ ‘m sort of a hermit.”

 

“Yeah?” Dean was one of those horrible humans that was just comfortable in his own skin, moving with a lazy, easy, rolling kind of gait as he abandoned going to bed in favor of claiming the far side of the couch. “What are we drinking, boss?”

 

Pointing out that he didn’t like Dean enough to drink with him seemed sort of the wrong foot to start on. If they were going to cohabitate for the next few days then Nick figured he might as well find some kind of peace between them- for Sam’s sake if nothing else. “I’ve got hipster local beer, or I’ve got cheap single malt whiskey.”

 

“Dude, I’m a slut for cheap whiskey.”

 

… Dean was a strange man. 

 

Sure he smiled in the same easy sort of way as his younger brother, and maybe it was a similar kind of laugh, and there was definitely something familiar in the slope of his shoulders. Just odd little tally marks on a list that said the Winchesters were related with some vague certainty. 

 

The differences were astounding though. 

 

Still, Nick got up and poured a second drink. Just a double shot, because to be honest this liquor was just a step above paint thinner, and he’d hate to be accused to trying to kill the man. Even still, he waited with a strange sense of anticipation once he handed over the whiskey.

 

After only a small taste Dean was left coughing dryly, holding the offending glass out at arm’s length. “Oh god.”

 

“Smooth, right?” Nick found himself laughing along with Dean, because if you can’t lightly torment your boyfriend’s brother then what was the point of having one.

 

Pressing the back of a hand to his mouth, Dean’s words came out a little muffled. “I can’t tell what they were trying to do- but they sure as hell didn’t do it right.”

 

As a show of superior masculinity, Nick swallowed down half his own drink without flinching. Smiling as he received his well earned nod of respect. “Drink of kings, my friend.”

 

“That’s the sort of king who gets killed by the angry peasants during the revolution.” But Dean still took another sip. Working over the whiskey like it was the most vile of medications, but necessary all the same.

 

“You don’t have to stay up and pretend to be good company, you know.” Nick glanced at his phone. Taking note of the still no nothing back from Sam. “You’ve got to be tired after your drive, and you and me, we’ve got about a week’s worth of evenings to make really uncomfortable conversation for Sam’s benefit. Don’t have to start tonight.”

 

“See now, I think you got the wrong idea about me.” Dean was visibly sinking into the couch, eyes half closed as he made himself so very comfortable. “I’m just not the kind of guy who says no to a drink. Nothing more exciting than that going on.” It was sort of refreshing how he laid out his intentions so clearly. “… this here isn’t an attempt at being besties. I’m not big on the male bonding through meaningful conversation thing- even for Sam’s  _ benefit _ . I’m more of a… an ice cream and stippers are the best way to bring people together, kind of guy.”

 

A charming notion, but, “ ‘m not sure you and I would be into the same kinds of strippers…”

 

Dean grinned, his laugh coming out as an uneven hiss through his teeth.  “Maybe not. We can work out the logistics later though, man. No more talky talky. I think between your brother these past two days, and Sam tonight, I’ve run out of words.”

 

“You’re the one doing all the talking here,” Nick couldn’t seem to keep himself from smiling. 

 

“I’d rather be doing the sleeping.”

 

“Then why the hell did you come sit down?”

 

Dean smiled over the rim of his glass, taking his last slow swallow before roughly clearing his throat. “Like I said, I hear someone say ‘whiskey’ and then I hear myself saying ‘yes’. Besides, cheap shit like this isn’t made to be drunk alone.”

Looking down into the last half inch of drink sloshing around in the bottom of his glass, he mused that the man beside him might be right. Lightly knocking the edge of his glass against Dean’s empty one, Nick muttered a soft, “ _ cheers _ ,” and downed the last mouthful. “Thanks again for bringing Castiel home.”

 

“You already said that back in the car.”

 

“Yeah, well. I’m pretty damn grateful.”

 

Dean waived the kind words off with a clumsy flap of his cast heavy arm. “Don’t go making it weird.”

 

With a soft chuckle, Nick got up. “I’m getting one more refill. You want?” A half hearted offer given more out of the last few shreds of ingrained politeness from his youth, than out of any real sense of being a good host. 

 

Dean’s glass was held up without a moment’s hesitation, so Nick took it and poured them both double shots from the bottle in the kitchen before coming and parking himself back on the couch. 

 

“Hey. Not for nothing, because your brother said you are and I guess I trust him well enough, but you sure you’re gay?” Came possibly the strangest question imaginable out of Dean as he took his glass from Nick’s outstretched hand. “I mean… you just don’t act like any other gay guy I’ve met.”

 

And over the years Nick had been called a lot of things, and asked a few overly personal things, but this one was sort of new to him. There honestly didn’t seem to be any prejudice or venom behind the words, just a bit of honest curiosity, and that alone made him pause long enough to come up with a reply that wasn’t comprised  _ entirely  _ out of sass. 

 

“I… didn’t expect you guys to have a large gay community up there in South Dakota.”

 

Dean managed to look sheepish without losing his slightly cocky expression that he wore so well. “I’ve met one or two, then there’s all the guys on TV and in movies.”

 

“So… you’re saying that I’m not a gay stereotype and that confuses you?” Nick just wanted to make sure they were on the same page here.

 

For just a moment Dean lost the ability to make eye contact, holding on to the last few threads of his smile and looking into the whiskey that he was balancing against his knee. Sort of shrugging,  “I wouldn’t put it that way,”

 

“You wouldn’t?”

 

“No. It makes me sound like a complete ass.”

 

Laughter curled warmly thought him, mixing well with the liquor. “We’re not all Nathan Lane from the Birdcage.” And Nick appreciated the small smile of recognition on Dean’s face. It was a weird level of comfortableness that he hadn’t expected to find with this very straight ‘good ol boy’ sharing his couch. “It’s actually possible to like cock without being super effeminate.”

 

“ _ Wow _ , ok.” Dean let out a startled laughed at the bluntness, downing half his drink and just shaking his head. “That’s… that’s a way to put it.”

 

“You want me to try again with different words?”

 

“Nah. I think I got the picture.” There was a soft ruddiness to his cheeks, and perhaps the overly strong whiskey was hitting him a bit harder than either of them had expected. “Did, uh, your blind date thing last go ok?”

 

A personal question, seeing as last night Nick had spent as much time as socially acceptable with his mouth on Sam… but Dean hadn’t mentioned his brother in juncture with the question, which made the whole thing feel a bit like a trap. It seemed like if he’d known who the date was with then he’d have added that fact on to the question with a bit more feeling. 

 

Not entirely sure where this was going, but wanting to keep his cards close to his chest, Nick deflected. “Fuckin’ you want to start off by making a list of the things about me that you  _ don’t _ already know, just for my peace of mind?”

 

Dean’s nose wrinkled, his lip curling like he was just suddenly stuck but realization that he’d even asked. “Sorry. None of my damn business. Cas and I just had a lot of time to talk today. It’s all still just kinda running around up here.” Still holding his glass, he pointed vaguely at a spot between his eyes.

 

… still felt like some kind of trap though. “Castiel’s not really all that talkative.”

 

“He is when you give him Pepsi and RedVines for breakfast. 

Wincing at the idea, Nick shook his head, “good lord, that sounds like a nightmare.” It also just sounded like his brother had been rambling his way through a sugar high and probably hadn’t said anything that he shouldn’t have said.

 

“To be honest, I’ve got a few regrets.”

 

Nick sort of smiled, feeling almost confident that the awkwardness he felt wasn’t too obvious in the little movement. 

 

“I got to spend nearly two hours listening to how terrible the last son of a bitch you dated was, and how much Cas hated him, but couldn’t tell you because he didn’t want to piss you off- and then I got to hear about the blind date he’s been trying to set you up on for like two months now, and how nervous he was that you’d fuck it up somehow.” Dean shook his head and finished off his drink, hissing a long inhale before licking his lower lip. “I’m summing up of course. That brother of yours gets a little weird and fancy with his words. And hey, I don’t fucking want to know, because I fucking don’t know you and it’s none of my damn business, but you might want to tell him how it went just for the dude’s peace of mind. All I could do is tell him if you hadn’t called him up to yell at him about it, then it probably didn’t go as bad as he was thinking it was going to.”

 

It was unnerving to think that this man here knew so very much, and still so very little about Nick. Facts that did absolutely nothing to make his existence more appealing. 

 

Dean wasn’t pushing though. In fact, other than some actually decent advice to catch Castiel up on what happened between him and Sam- all of what Dean was saying was borderline respectful and kind of well meaning and nice. 

 

Damn him. 

 

Whoever raised this man and his younger brother did a number on them. What with their matching sets of good intentions, and mismatched levels of self confidant son of a bitch-ly ness. It couldn’t all just be blamed on genetics. They had to have picked it all up from someone.

 

So, damn that guy too.

 

Whoever he was, he’d managed to raise a strangely charismatic smartass that was increasingly difficult to dislike as time went on. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the wrong ocean on the wrong side of me, and all the time in the world to write. 
> 
> Hope that you're all doing well <3<3 and thank you, like always, for your unwaiverign support. You make my day. You don't even know.

“I don’t like your brother.” 

 

Whatever easy greeting there had been about to come out of Sam withered, “already?”  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “ _ Great _ . What did he do?”

 

“He left a little bit ago to take my brother car shopping.”

 

“... and?”

 

“What do you mean  _ ‘and _ ’?” Nick held the front door open to let the other man through, doing his best not to lean into the welcoming wall of warmth that was Sam as he passed by on his right side.

 

“ _ And _ what did he do?” The younger man pressed.

 

“... nothing.” And that little fact didn’t matter to Nick. “But I don’t have to wait for him to do something specific before deciding that I don’t like the charming son of a bitch. There aren’t rules about these things, Sam.”

 

Laughing in a dismissive way, and looking oddly relieved, he just shook his head. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

 

“Don’t change the subject.”

 

“Cas texted me, said that there’s stuff to make muffins downstairs.”

 

Nick had actually received a similar text, because apparently Castiel wanted someone to make him some damn muffins and was also still working on learning how to be subtle. “If you think I’m going to feel differently about your brother if I eat a few muffins then I’ve got some bad news for you.”

 

Sam, easy as you like, kissed Nick’s cheek, lips just barely brushing the edge of his mouth in a way that lingered like a promise as he let one hand curl possessively around the back of Nick’s neck. “I think you’ll be less grumpy if you’ve had something to eat- and if you don’t like that then you can keep me company while  _ I _ eat something. Besides, I don’t know my way around the kitchen. Cas doesn’t exactly share the space well. I could use an experienced hand.” 

 

Spending time with Sam was always a tempting offer. And Nick reluctantly agreed before realising that he was basically committing to making breakfast for them both whilst Sam sat on a drum of shortening and teased him. It was difficult to tell if he didn’t  _ know _ how to bake, or simply prefered letting Nick do all the work. There’d been some happy shrugging and reasoning that he was more skilled at microwaving than actual cooking… Nick had a lot more experience with this sort of thing… and didn’t want to be underfoot, so...

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had apple muffins before.” Sam unhelpfully mused while reaching one hand out to lazily hook his fingers through Nick’s belt loops. 

 

Biting back a smile, Nick let himself be lightly tugged side to side while he stirred the lumpy, cinnamon speckled batter. “I’ve never made them before, and you’re sort of doing the opposite of helping.” 

 

“Oh… was I supposed to be helping?” He asked so very innocently with that vicious smile of his.

 

“You’re the one who wanted the damn muffins.” If it hadn’t been for his brother’s continued passive aggressive texts on where to find the recipe, and how it would be nice to have muffins, Nick wouldn’t even be making the attempt. 

 

Sam heaved himself to his feet and went to go dig noisily through the cabinet that housed their many baking pans. “So, ignoring the fact that you’re not good about sharing your brother, are you-”

 

“I can share.” Nick grumped. “You and him talk all the time, apparently about me, and do I say a damn thing? No.”

 

“Yes. You do.” 

 

Nick knocked his mixing spoon against the rim of the bowl. Getting out the sharp, angry sounds in place of voicing any real aggression. “Fine. I do, because it’s weird that you two talk about me. But I like you. So it’s different.”

 

“Because you don’t like Dean.” Sam strung the illogical bits of logic together as best he could, somehow managing not to laugh. “They’re just getting a car, Nick. He’s not replacing you as Cas’ big brother.”

 

“It’s not the car.” It was a strange sort of struggle to get his thoughts all where he wanted them to be, like getting ducks in a row. An action that turned out to be too complicated for him to do while he spooned batter into the pan that Sam had set beside him. So Nick fell quiet as he filled the muffin tin, biting his lip in concentration. 

 

“Did you two have a bit of a disagreement last night with no one else around to moderate?” 

 

“He helped me drink about a fourth of whiskey before falling asleep on my couch.” Beside him he could hear Sam laughing, though Nick didn’t look up from his careful work. “We hardly said so much as  _ boo _ to eachother.”

 

Sam laid a sympathetic hand on Nick’s shoulder, a movement that was considerably more mocking than comforting. 

 

Irritated, he shrugged off the gentle touch. “And he snores.”

 

“When he’s been drinking, yeah.” Sam sounded almost affectionate about that fact.

 

“And then this morning I could hear him talking to Cassy.” It had been a short phone call, but each word of it had bristled along Nick’s skin like being rubbed with sandpaper. “He was actually   _ joking _ around with my brother.”

 

“ _ No _ ,” and how Sam managed to fit that much sarcasm into a single word was just a testament to how perfect the two of them really were for each other. “That’s what Dean does, Nick… all the time… with everyone. I don’t think he knows how to turn it off.”

 

“My brother isn’t everyone. He doesn’t joke.”

 

“They spent the last two days together. They must have found some common ground.”

 

Nick set aside his now empty bowl and pushed the pan towards Sam. “This is the part where you make us both a little uncomfortable by trying to comfort me. Tell me your brother’s a nice guy, wouldn’t hurt a fly, isn’t going to talk my brother into joining a cult, or getting a tattoo, or drinking whiskey with strangers.”

 

A soft roll of laugher never quite made it out of Sam. He hummed softly with amusement while he leaned against Nick, bumping their shoulders together and just sort of crowding in in a way that was extremely pleasant.  “I think now might be a good time to remind you that your brother  _ is _ actually an adult, and allowed to drink and get tattoos as he sees fit.” Sam took the muffins and slid them into the industrial oven. “And if it helps you at all, no respectable cult would let Dean in.”

 

The look that Nick gave obviously was not one of a man who had been pacified, because Sam chuckled and continued with his attempts at comforting words. 

 

“I can’t say he wouldn’t hurt a fly, because I’ve seen him shoot flies with a BB gun. I’ve also see him pick fights with guys twice his size. He’s picked fights with me when he’s in a prickly enough mood- but he wouldn’t even raise his voice with someone like Cas. Dean’s a bit of a bully, and a lot of an ass, but he’s not mean. I know this is your baby brother that you’re worried about, Nick, but you’re playing the overprotective card a little strong today.”

 

All of the above might be true. 

 

But that didn’t mean that Nick felt any better about it all.  He was half tempted to justify his feelings and tell Sam what Dean had told last night. About where Castiel got all those awful bruises. Just so he’d seem less like an angry mama bear. 

 

Instead he took the dirty dishes to the sink and quietly cleaned. 

 

“Cas‘ll be fine. He’s as safe with Dean as he’d be with you,” smoothly, Sam took the rinsed dishes from Nick’s hands before placing them in the washer. 

 

Like a reflex, Nick bore his teeth, “I still don’t like him.”

 

And Sam, being one of the smartest men that Nick had ever met, said nothing. He just smiled a rather deliberate smile and kept helping with the dishes.

 

The kitchen got cleaned. Cleaner than it had been before they came downstairs to figure out breakfast. Nick feeling more and more frustrated by the pleasant silence until he reached a breaking point, sighing, and stringing a few words together as best as he could,  “I realize that you and him are kind of a package deal- and this is some kind of weird test that I’m failing hard, but I hate how much eye contact he makes when he smiles, like he really fucking means it. And it’s unnatural how well he gets along with my brother.”

 

“It’s just for a few days. Then you can have Cas all to yourself again.”

 

“Don’t patronize me.” 

 

“I’m not-”

 

“I will bite you,” an offer as much as it was a threat. 

 

And it looked very difficult to keep from smiling, but to Sam’s credit he kept an amazingly straight face as he offered, “why not, for everyone's safety, I just go ahead and promise to do my best not to leave you two alone?”

 

Apparently the best way to keep that promise was to leave with Dean as soon as the man came back. Which was fine… sort of. Inevitably the brothers needed to spend some time together, and Nick realized rather resentfully that he couldn’t just hoard Sam and Castiel all to himself for the rest of forever. So he watched the big black car roll out from the parking lot with mixed feelings before turning to his younger brother. 

 

“It’s very… blue.” Was the first and possibly only nice thing that Nick could think to say.

 

Castiel looked over from where he stood admiring his new car. “I know. This way it will be easier to find her when I forget where I parked.”

 

“It’s a  _ she _ ?”

 

“Dean said that all cars are ‘shes’. Just like ships.” He brushed some imaginary dust from the hood. “I learned a lot about cars today from Dean. I had always considered Sam to be an exceptionally intelligent young man, but I hadn’t expected the same from his brother. I’ve had a very pleasant and informative time with him.” 

 

There was a lot to unpack in that simple statement. Nick, however, had no idea how to even begin to approach that one.   “How’s your face feeling?” He jumped ahead in the predictable dialogue instead, because all the pleasantries that were supposed to come before hand just irritated him. 

 

A little self consciously, Castiel touched the bruised skin around his eye, fingers trailing down to lit on his split lip for just a moment. “It’s… it’s fine. It hurts less than I expected it to.”

 

“How’s your hand?”

 

Nick had to wait for the answer to that one. Wait and watch his younger brother look with confused eyes down at his open palms before slowly turning them over to see the bruising across the knuckles of his right hand. The confusion quickly shifted to worry, and then something strange and unnamable while a lie was hastily moulded. 

 

“I- I must have hit it against the windshield.”

 

“The windshield?”

 

“Yeah… when I hit the nice cow. I must have,” he demonstrated by holding his hands up like he was gripping a steering wheel, and then reflexively jerking them upward with a mock look of surprise on his face, “like that.”

 

Nick caught his brother’s hand and examined the light damage. “You sure it’s not from punching out three guys in a parking lot?”

 

“...how did you know?”

 

“It’s either from your best buddy Dean ratting on you last night, or just because you’re a fucking terrible liar- I’m not sure which.”

 

“He told you?”

 

“Sure did.” Nick released his brother’s hand. 

 

“Are you mad?”

 

“I’m... “ did it even matter how Nick felt? It shouldn’t. Which was a very strange thing to suddenly realize. Like the sun rising on a terrible new day, it struck Nick that his feelings and concern actually had no bearing on what had happened whatsoever. This was about Castiel. Not him. And it seemed overly important to get that straightened out for the first time. “I was just worried. You sure you’re all right?”

 

Castiel looked like he believed that about as much as Nick had believed the slapping the windshield story. But after a bit of foot shuffling and a moment’s worth of gazing out at his car, he shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I am worried that I might have broken the nose of one of the young men who attacked me. I should have checked on them afterwards to make sure they were all right.”

 

Never once had Nick ever met anyone quite like his brother Castiel. A beautiful anomaly who was sadly trapped here amongst boring, petty, regular humans.

 

“They got what they deserved.” Was all he could really offer up as a sideways kind of comfort.  “Come on in and tell me why the muffins I made suck.”

 

Castiel caught onto the distraction so easily. Hook, line, and sinker. “What did you do, Nick? I told you where the recipe was. All you had to do was follow it.”

 

“I did follow it... I think.” It wasn’t that they tasted bad so much as, “they ended up a little burnt.”

 

“Those were very fresh apples that I’d brought home from my trip… and you burnt them.” With a look of extreme disappointment, Castiel lead them inside the shop, honing in on the cooled muffins resting on the back counter. “Did you forget to set the timer?”

 

“I didn’t need a timer. I was keeping an eye on them… but I got a bit distracted.”

 

“ _ Distracted _ ?” He prodded one of the overly browned muffins. 

 

“By Sam.” Nick shrugged like an apology. 

 

Blinking owlishly, Castiel looked up from the wasted effort on the counter. An expression of slow dawning dread blooming over his face. “Please don’t tell me that you two were kissing in my kitchen.”

 

Nick couldn’t help a grin. “Wasn’t that part of your plan when you were pushing him to ask me out for the past few  _ months _ ?”

 

“I had hopes that the two of you would be good for each other.” Castiel spoke in a clipped tone. “That it would be nice for once if you were to involve yourself with someone who doesn't have a criminal record. But we both know that I never intended for it to happen in my kitchen. We’ve talked about this, Nick.”

 

“That’s really not fair.” Very few of the men that he’d dated had ever been arrested, and he didn’t hesitate to remind his brother of this fact. 

 

“I know that you prefer to go after the dregs of society because you enjoy being angry and bitter, but Sam is a very pleasant individual, and change is not always a bad thing.”

 

“Are you really trying to defend yourself after I told you I’ve been kissing the guy in your kitchen?” Nick earned a very uncomfortably smile from his brother. “I’m not mad about you playing matchmaker. Kind of happy how it worked out actually.”

 

The unease slipped out of Castiel, and for a moment he was just openly, unapologetically happy about the fact that he’d done a good thing. 

 

“And I don’t know what kind of talking you’ve been doing with your new best friend Dean, but uh… Sam’s still pretty deep in the closet.” And Nick was greeted with a stunning look of incomprehension, so he made a move to be a bit more blunt. “His brother doesn’t know that he likes men. So, you know, keep it to yourself.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes. Eeking sass that he must have picked up recently and from a very bad role model. “Nick. That is a conversation that Sam and I had months ago. And though I’m sure that he will find your protectiveness and concern all very charming, it’s nonetheless unnecessary.”

 

To which Nick really didn’t know what else to say but, “you two really do talk too much.”

 

.:.

 

Once a year, for one glorious week, the Discovery Channel played sharks, sharks, and nothing but sharks. It was something that Nick looked forward to every summer. Something that he had no intention of forgoing this year just because he had an unwelcome house guest to tend to. He assumed going into this that Dean would be out most of the night with his brother, maybe coming back just in time to disrupt the tail end of each night’s set of shark documentaries. 

 

What he hadn’t expected was to have a front seat as Dean argued with Sam that they could all just stay in tonight, because he didn’t want to miss Shark Week. In a time that Nick should have been happy with the revelation that someone else was as excited for a week of sharks as he was, all he could do was focus on how much disappointment he felt over the fact that that someone else had to be Dean.

 

As if he needed another reason to dislike the man.

 

First he crowds in on his baby brother, and now on his sharks. 

 

The man had no shame.

 

At least Sam made good on his earlier offer and didn’t leave them alone together. Taking his referee duties very seriously, he went one step further and actually sat on the couch between them. The buffer was nice up until Nick remembered that despite all that lovely proximity, he still wasn’t allowed to feel up Sam. The first half hour worth of shark-y goodness was spent trying to figure out if there was a casual way to let their thighs touch without it being too obvious.

 

No viable plan presented itself, and Nick was forced to enjoy his television shows, cold beers, and good conversation. All in all, it was a better night than he’d been hoping for. 

 

By the time that the new episodes gave way to reruns, Nick was feeling about ready for bed. He’d have to be up early in the morning to open the shop with Castiel (who’d politely declined the offer to join them and their shark shows), and going to bed sooner rather than later was probably a good idea. 

 

“I’m going to turn in.” He smacked the back of a hand against Sam’s knee, keeping the touch as casual as he could. “Make sure that you get the downstairs door locked on your way out, ok?”

 

Sam gave a short nod and turned to his brother. “You giving me a ride home, or am I walking?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll give you a ride.” Dean rolled his eyes and looked to Nick for sympathy. “Genius brother of mine here sold his car to pay for school, but now he doesn’t have a way to get to school.”

 

“I walk or take the bus.” With a sigh, Sam leaned back heavily into the couch. This had the feel of a conversation that they’d had a few times before. “I also live a few blocks from campus. It’s not a big deal, Dean.”

 

Their words still held that fresh sort of tension of a newly found argument, and Nick very deliberately stayed out of it. Getting to his feet and collecting the few stray beer bottles to take to the kitchen, listening to the heavy way that the other two men were staring at eachother. There followed a few clipped words of a well meaning lecture from Dean that were hastily cut off by Sam. 

 

“Come on,” he said to his brother in a way that did not even vaguely resemble a suggestion. 

 

Dean got up, movement that Nick could see so very clearly from his small kitchen in his small apartment where there were no secrets. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming. Gonna’ drive your sorry ass home.”

 

They left, both of them giving a nodd at two desperately meaning weighted looks in Nick’s direction. Suddenly finding himself alone, he had a lot of time to toss those few bottles into the recycle bin and examine the brotherly interactions that he’d just seen while comparing them to his own life to see who here was doing the sibling  _ thing _ better. 

 

He tried to do his best by Castiel. Tried not to fight with him, and just barely managed to have a functioning relationship with his brother. Hold that up to the Winchesters who openly loved each other in a way that was a somewhat startling, but also fought like a married married couple. There was no way to tell which was a healthier way to go about being related to someone. 

 

And maybe this was one of those ‘many ways to reach the same destination’ kinds of things. 

 

Deep, family centric musings were cut short by the sound of rapid footfalls thumping up his stairs. The door was pushed open by none other than Sam, who grinned and grabbed up Nick’s house key before closing the short distance between them and stealing a kiss. “Needed the keys so Dean can lock up,” he whispered with their lips still touching. 

 

“Yeah, ok.” He would have agreed to just about anything right then, pulling Sam in closer with a hand on either of his cheeks, feeling the scratch of stubble and the warmth of his mouth. 

 

One rough and lingering kiss later and Sam was pulling away. “He’s waiting out in the car,” an apology that was made with some very obvious sounding regret. 

 

“Tomorrow?” Nick wasn’t even positive what he was asking for, just that he was.

 

“Yeah.” Sam’s grin was brilliant and breathtaking as always. “Goodnight.”   
  


 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter in my mind for months now. It feels good to get all the words down... mostly in the way that I'd been hoping for. 
> 
> My vacation/epic babysitting job on the east cost continues into it's second week- and while those kids are in school I've had ample time to write and somehow catch a cold. Good and bad things I suppose. 
> 
> but now for sleep. well earned sleeps.

Three nights of shark documentaries passed without incident. That was three days worth of daylight hours where Nick only caught flashes of Sam, and three evenings sitting beside him on the couch and not being allowed to touch him while he fought to not argue with Dean over the fact that Mako sharks were obviously superior to fucking Great Whites. Those things were shaped like aggressive sea potatoes with teeth. That was not nature’s perfect killing machine, as Dean argued, it was just evolution giving up.

 

The fourth day (technically the fifth day of the terrible visit, if the first night counted for anything), Sam stayed in the shop to help Nick, while Dean busied himself outside doing something to Castiel’s car. Because it was a new-used car and apparently needed a bit of love? There had been some mention of a better stereo system? Which would have been completely wasted on Castiel who only ever listened to audio books. But Nick had no idea, nor did he want to, because all that mattered was that he had Sam shuffling around behind the counter with him, with stolen smiles and occasional touches, and he didn’t give single good goddamn what it was that Dean was doing.

 

“Dean wants to make hamburgers for us tonight.” Sam drawled oh so casually after he’d handed a boxed cake off to a nice older woman who’d smiled at them both a little too long.

 

“...why?” And it wasn’t so much that Nick was just naturally assuming that Dean was planning to poison him and steal his baby brother away, as it was just such a bizarre and unexpected offer.

 

“He feels bad for eating all your food.”

 

This came as somewhat of a surprise seeing as Nick had only ever seen Dean drinking coffee or alcohol before tromping off to sweet talk Castiel into some pie, and then leaving for the day. If the man was eating any _real_  food then he sure as hell was doing it somewheres else. “He does?”

 

Sam got lost looking through the windows out into the parking lot for a moment, and awkward smile tickling the edges of his mouth, “... well… I told him that he _should_ be feeling bad for it, and he agreed to make dinner.”

 

The fact that Nick was not the sort of man to turn down a home cooked meal hardly swayed him from how much he loathed the idea of someone he disliked making food for him. “I guess…”

 

“It’ll be good. I promise.” No hesitation what so ever behind his ungrounded promise.

 

“It’ll be good when he’s gone.” And it wasn’t necessarily that Nick was used to being the center of attention and in Dean he’d met some strong competition. It was really more that he hated the way that he’d been completely shoved into the background by his sort of boyfriend (Nick was still waiting for firmer confirmation on that), and by his own damn brother. “He’s fine and whatever, but I’m not a fan of change.”

 

Sam’s look was almost sympathetic. He wore it well. Then he was stepping back towards the kitchen, watching Nick and nodding in a way that seemed to say he expected to be followed. So he did, acknowledging Castiel with a sliver of a smile and a shrug.

 

Flour up to his elbows and lightly dusted over most of his face and hair, his younger brother blinked like some cave dwelling creature stumbling into the light. “Can I help you two…?”

 

“No,” Sam grinned out what was either an excuse or an apology. “We just needed a second away from the front of the store and the visible line of the parking lot.”

 

Before Nick had a chance to ask why that was something that they _needed_ , Sam took him by the front of his apron and tugged him in for a short kiss.

 

All thoughts of a proper response fled the forefront of Nick’s mind, because it had been days since he’d tasted these lips and it satisfied a craving that he hadn’t realized he’d been suffering under.

 

“Do not make me regret rooting for your relationship by sullying my kitchen.”

 

Still holding on possessively to Nick’s apron, Sam grinned at Cassy. Grinned like he honestly expected it to get him out of any sort of trouble that might come his way. It was painfully obvious that he’d never tried to charm his way out of Castiel’s dead stares before.

 

It was like a man hoping to get a thumbs up from a stone wall.

 

Castiel didn’t waver for even an instant, just rested his hands against the counter and looked to be waiting impatiently for the sweet moment when the intrusion to his baking would end.

 

Lowering his eyes and finally releasing Nick, Sam muttered a proper apology. “Sorry. He was getting grumpy again.”

 

“There are better, less invasive to me, ways to cheer him up. I promise.”

 

A peace offering in place of a grin was Sam’s next attempt, “Dean’s making dinner tonight. Did you want to come too?”

 

It was just burgers.

 

And Nick didn’t want to know if it was the promise of his favorite food, or if it was the chance to spend time with Dean that won Castiel over. Either way, he stayed after work and joined them up in Nick apartment where he peacefully ignored Dean’s teasing that the burgers wouldn’t be vegetarian approved so _Cas_ might want to sit this one out.  To which Castiel had only smiled and rolled his eyes while he helped Dean with the cooking.

 

Nick just sat on the couch and seethed quietly.

 

Part of him was happy that his brother had actually found a friend, but a much larger part was really upset that it had to be _this_ friend. Which was just one more of those things that didn’t ask for Nick’s approval or opinion to be weighed in. And still he found it hard swallowing down those unkind and unhelpful words, even knowing that they would do no good and plenty harm.

 

The couch was as far from the cooking situation that he could place himself without just leaving the apartment all together. So he settled in, elbows on his knees and phone in his hands, assuming the universal posture of a man who wasn’t interested in what was going on around him.

 

Sam seemed to have no desire to squeeze himself into Nick’s little kitchen and lend a hand. Instead he simply found a table chair to sit backwards in while he made side conversation with his brother about nothing in particular, quietly texting on his phone.

 

Texts that came to Nick and started out innocent enough, but rapidly became distractingly indecent. Not that NIck was complaining. Oh no. He texted back with agile thumbs and guarded glances that he hoped conveyed the fact that he intended for Sam to make good on every dirty promise that was being offered up in neat little block letters.

 

“There’s a perfectly good table,” Cassy was protesting even while he lifted plated burgers alongside Dean and followed him out to the living room.

 

“But we can watch sharks from in here.” Came some logical reasoning from Dean as he planted himself like a most unwelcome weed, right in the middle of the couch. Right where Sam usually sat. Right beside Nick...

 

Nick got himself up off the couch and went to fetch his own food that smelled eight kinds of amazing- which was not something that he was willing to tell Dean about. So he got his own damn burger in silence and kept to himself just how much his mouth was watering.

 

Quiet as a cloud, Sam joined him in the kitchen. Standing beside him, maybe a hair too close for casual friends, but welcome all the same.

 

“Told you it’d be good.” And Sam didn’t have to drop his voice too much for it to get lost under the sound of the television turning on in the other room. Sharks taking the screen without waiting for all the viewing audience to be settled in first. Sam seemed to want it that way, sharing in the smallest private conversation possible under their current circumstances.  

 

“Yeah, well, you’ve told me a hell of a lot of things tonight.” Nick whispered before taking a bite of his burger, eating over the sink like a heathen. God, it was good. Good to the point that it wasn’t fair, and he learned to dislike Dean on a new level that he hadn’t previously thought possible. “I’d like to hope you’re planning to deliver on _all_ those promises?”

 

Sam buried himself in his own dinner, but his eyes crinkled on the edges and gave away the grin he was trying to hide.

 

“Come on, you two girls. Stop giggling over there and get in here” Dean had such a way with words. “You’re missing the sharks.”

 

Heaven forbid.

 

They couldn’t miss the sharks.

 

Sam ended up on the couch, flanking his brother along with Castiel. Nick chose not to squeeze in and opted to fold himself down into the lumpy recliner, treating the piece of furniture that he’d been meaning to replace like it was a throne and not a banishment.

 

Burgers were had, beers were enjoyed, sharks were watched, and Castiel drooped the further the night dragged on. He was a trooper though and seemed determined to make it through the last half hour’s worth of documentary. Not that Nick was paying all that much attention to what was going on on the couch side of the room, because there were a family of sharks on the television, and he was personally rather emotionally invested in finding out what happened to the youngins. It meant that he hadn’t honestly taken any note as to whether or not Sam had his phone out. All Nick knew was that his text notification went off, and he happily settled in with a smile, expecting some more lurid, filthy words, only to see that it was not a text from Sam.

 

 **I think I left my jacket at your place** were the words that greeted him. And they were lies. Balthazard had most definitely not done anything of the sort.

 

Nick could ignore it though. He gripped his phone like he meant to strangle it, holding it screen down on his leg until three more texts came in rapid succession.

 

 **No I wont go look for it. No you can’t come up. I’m busy. And go fuck yourself.** Nick sent back a string of words that he hopped would make his feelings clear.

 

But sure enough there came the distant sound of someone knock knock knocking on his downstairs door. Like they’d rehearsed it, all three other men in the room looked around in confused unison.

 

Castiel was the first to figure things out. “Should I go get the door?”

 

“Leave the bastard out there.” Nick folded his arms firmly over his chest. “He’ll eventually give up and go away.” A statement for which he had no proof, but very high hopes.  From where he aggressively sat he was able to watch Dean get more confused, all while a strange look of understanding pass over Sam, who rather pointedly didn’t look at Nick.

 

“Is it Balthazar?” Castiel asked with all the tact of a bear in a kitchen, before sighing, and then offering in the helpful way that he usually did, “I can tell him to go away for you.”

 

“I already told him.” Nick tried to keep the strained anger from his tone, after all, this was in no way his younger brother’s fault.

 

Still, the knocking downstairs continued.

 

And then it paused long enough for Nick to get another text.

 

He ground his teeth, silently waging a war against himself. Patience and maturity were obviously the most socially acceptable tactic to use, and yet going downstairs and smashing the bastard’s face against the wall also held considerable merit.

 

“Is this the same sone of a bitch who never told you he was married?” Dean finally caught up with the rest of them.

 

And if Nick had to put a finger on what about Dean rubbed him the wrong way, that right there would be one of the first things. “I do so love that you just _know_ all my damn business, considering that I only met you a few days ago.”

 

Dean’s eyebrows went up as the edges of his mouth went down. He held his hands palms out in surrender, a motion that looked very unpracticed... but maybe he just knew when to back down.

 

Unlike Balthazar.

 

Unlike Nick.

 

Muttering profanities like running off a grocery list, Nick dragged himself up, tossing his phone down into his vacated chair and stomping towards the door. It was childish and it wouldn’t do any good, and he honestly didn’t know if those descriptors were meant for himself of the man who was waiting for him.

 

“Do you want someone to go with you?” Castiel offered like you’d offer up one last cigarette to a man standing before a firing squad.

 

The gut response to that was ‘ _hell no. I’m an adult and I can handle this on my own_ ’. The more rational side of Nick’s brain knew what a terrible plan it was to even go downstairs in the first place, much less alone and without backup. Naturally, he just shook his head and took the stairs two at a time, wanting to just get it over with.

 

He always knew that pride would be his downfall, he just haddn’t planned for it to happen tonight.

 

“What about ‘go away’ do you not understand?” He growled out as he slammed the door open.

 

“The first part, and then the last part,” Balthazar grinned up at Nick like he just _knew_ that he’d won somehow. “What part about _‘_ I miss you’ don’t _you_ understand?”

 

Nick breathed through his nose in short, sharp breaths. “At this point, I wouldn’t even go through the effort to spit on you if you were on fire.”

 

“But you’ll still come for me when I call,” because this here was a man who’d elevated smugness to an art form.  “Funny how we always end up here, isn’t it?”

 

“This isn’t _here_. This isn’t anywhere. This is me telling you to go the hell away.”

 

“Yeah, you said that last week too.” Balthazar was leaning against the wall beside the door, eyes glassy in a way that meant he’d been drinking. His smile well oiled and relaxed as if he felt zero fear for what might happen to him in the next few minutes.  “I liked how well that turned out for us both.”

 

It had turned out with the both of them in Nick’s bed, no clothes, a lot of angry words, and some very heavy breathing. He would have been lying to himself if he’d said it had been anything other than fantastic. Sex with Balthazar was always a treat.

 

But it wasn’t a treat that he wanted to want anymore.

 

“No.” He gritted out, letting all the quiet anger inside of him carry that single word.

 

“ _No_ ,” Balthazar repeated like the punch line to a joke. “You’re so cute when you get all mad. Your nose wrinkles and your mouth does that little curl thing.”

 

“Don’t think that just because you’re drunk off you ass that I won’t punch that fucking smile off your fucking face.” A less than subtle expression of his anger that he’d been restraining himself from for far too long. “We’ve go not witnesses and you’ve had it coming for months now, you smug son of a bitch.”    

 

As slow and easy as if he were moving through water, Balthazar turned his head to one side, tapping a finger against his bared cheek. “Right here, sweetie. Only we both know you won’t do it. You’ve still got a soft spot for me. A soft spot and a hard dick, and it’s so cute how you want to keep saying different. Being all woeful and tragic, and pretending that you didn’t know about all the others.”

 

 _All_?

 

Nick might have lied to Sam once, when he said that he’d only ever been ‘in like’ with this man. It’s hard to get that knife twisting in the gut sort of feeling of betrayal without using the big L word. Oh, but it had been there. And that terrible word and the security that was supposed to follow with it had been roughly ripped out from underneath him quite some time ago.

 

That fact is what Nick clung to. Let it dictate his next step.

 

It felt amazing to prove Balthazar wrong.

 

Almost as amazing as it felt when Nick’s fist connected with that so perfectly presented cheek. Then he was shaking the dull ache from his hand, loosening his fingers from their too tight curl and taking a step back to prevent himself from throwing another punch. It was enough to just watch the object of his disappointment stagger and cradle his cheek in stunned shock.

 

“ _Christ_.” Balthazar finally breathed out after he’d run through a fair number of colorful words. He looked unsteady on his feet. His ears must have been ringing as the world came back into focus.

 

“You strung me along for two years. For two fucking years.” Words fell out of Nick like he’d suddenly sprung a leak. Things he’d spent months thinking but never planned to say outloud. “You lied to me. You lied to your wife, who sure as hell deserved someone better than you. You lied to your kids. And you lied to apparently fucking a whole lot of other people because you couldn’t keep it in your damn pants.”

 

“Sorry, love,” there was not even the slightest glimmer of remorse, “but let's be honest, there’s just some things that a twenty year old college girl can do that you can’t. How is that my fault?”

 

There wasn’t a point in asking if he was serious or not. Experience told Nick that he would be better off arguing with one of the cars parked nearby.

 

“I get these itches that need to be scratched.” This terrible man offered in way of explanation. “You know how it is.” He let his hand fall from an angry red mark on his cheek that was painfully visible even in the weak street lights. “That doesn’t mean you weren't something special to me. God, you always gave as good at you got. Some of the best sex of my life, Nicky. One of my favorite itches to scratch.”

 

Nick recoiled. Horrified by the strange part of himself that thrilled at hearing those words. “I don’t want to be special. I want you to fucking leave and not come back.”

 

Balthazar watched him with slightly more sober eyes. And for one delusional moment, Nick thought that maybe this time, just for once, he’d actually gotten through, and that they could be done picking open these wounds.

 

But slowly, so slowly, that smile crept back into place. “If you’ve got that all out of your system... can we head on upstairs?”

 

“Oh… my god.” Nick was starting to wonder if this whole conversation wasn’t some kind of fever dream. “What about this aren’t you getting? No. Fucking no. _No._ ”

 

The empty streets rang with his sharp words. Telling all the dark storefronts and street lights that it really was over this time. They wouldn’t be dancing this dance again for old time’s sake. No encore performance. Just no. It was done.

 

God, but Nick just wanted it to be done.

 

Nothing could ever be that easy though.

 

A tender look came over the other man. Something sweet and oddly affectionate. “Love, you say no to me almost as often as you make me beg on my knees. It’s sort of lost whatever impact you seem to think it’s going to have.”

 

That so simple statement was like someone unveiling a lit billboard displaying all of Nick’s largest regrets. So loud and difficult to ignore- and it was all significantly less than fantastic to have them shoved in his face. Righteous anger was rapidly giving way to a nauseating amount of self loathing.

 

Because he always came back here. Didn’t he?

 

And he liked to think that he deserved more from life, but then there came the reminder that he really wasn’t any better than this. Some horrible part of him must enjoy the awfulness and the being used, otherwise he’d be able to deny the accusations.

 

And Nick really, really wished that he could stand up for himself and say that the other man was wrong.

It would be fantastic if he could say with any real conviction that he’d ever made the word ‘no’ stick between them before. But giving in was always so gratifying in the moment, despite knowing how bad the regret and self loathing would be afterwards. Like drinking when you knew damn well that you’d be hungover in the morning. The end result was still guaranteed misery, and yet here he was.

 

“There it is.” Balthazar sang softly, reading every shift of emotion that rolled over Nick like a familiar old story. “You bluster and blow, but we both know you miss me just as much as I miss you.”

 

The door opened somewhere behind him, and to Nick it didn’t really matter if it was Sam or Castiel coming out to save him from whatever this was rapidly becoming. He was grateful.

 

A steady hand slid along the small of his back. Warmth pressing along Nick’s right side like salvation. He leaned into it just enough to steady himself, and almost jumped out of his skin when Dean so unenthusiastically demanded to know, “this is it? This is the son of a bitch all the fuss is about?”

 

Balthazar was watching the newcomer with an alien expression.

 

“Got to say, he’s a bit underwhelming.” And still Dean’s hand stayed in place as he stood there, the solid line of his cast very noticeably, practically hugging Nick to his side in the most casual way imaginable.

 

Words returned to Balthazar, though they were halting at first, “are you... seeing someone else, Nick?” Like an accusation. A shocked realization that he could actually be replaced took him from slightly injured to openly outraged in mere seconds. “Are you really slumming it here with this blue collar, Ken doll-”

 

“ _Slumming_ ?” Dean straightened his shoulders and tensed, because apparently he could do outrage just as easily.  “He upgraded the hell up after you, you pompous son of a bitch. This isn’t _slumming_.”

 

If there was something that Nick was supposed to be saying he had no idea what it was. Too baffled by the fact that his boyfriend’s brother was suddenly snuggling him to really form a proper counter argument. He wanted to step away, to vigorously rub off the warm tickle where their skin touched like you would if you found an ant crawling on your arm. But something strange was happening here and he couldn’t seem to move for fear of breaking the odd spell that had been cast over his ex.

 

The feeling of betrayal was overly obvious on Balthazar as he tried regain his suddenly unsteady footing. “What dive bar did he scrape you off the floor of, sweetie?”

 

“Oh hell no. We’re not standing out here trading insults, you bag of dicks.” Dean bore his teeth in a grin that would have made the sharks up stairs proud. “You can fuck off like he already told you too, or I can break your nose and you can leave bleeding. See, I don’t have any history with you. I won't pull my punch like he did.”

 

“Threats of bodily harm? You went for the double threat of both charming and eloquent I see, Nick.” Sarcasm was heavily spread over all that unease.  “A good choice.”

 

“Like he said,” Nick tried to be part of this conversation. Not wanting to be a princess that needed rescuing, and realizing that meant speaking up for himself now before the chance was lost altogether. “I upgraded the hell up after you,” though he wasn’t sure that that’s how those words were meant to fit together.

 

The redness to Balthazar’s cheeks had very little to do with having been recently hit. He was mad and it came out in unexpected ways. “We’re together for two bloody years, and you go and settle for the first pretty little stud who comes along afterwards?”

 

“Trust me, he’s an improvement in every way over the last guy.” And Nick gave his ex a look that left no doubt who that _last guy_ could possibly be. “This isn’t settling.”

 

Dean smiled up at Nick with nothing but approval and encouragement. The negligible difference in their heights making the movement a bit too close and intimate.

 

Balthazar looked… hurt. And even knowing that the other man wasn’t yet feeling even half the hell that he’d put Nick through, that little crack in the veneer of confidence and sass, sent a thrill through him.  

 

With a small wink and a half smile that never should be shared with Nick, Dean turned back to man with the darkening bruise on his cheek. “Fuck off. He already told you. Last warning you’re going to get before me and him start discussing who gets to hold you and who gets to use you as a punching bag.”

 

And really, the one punch had been enough for Nick. Something he’d been wanting to do for months and that need had now been satisfied. He was more for bitter remarks and eventual yelling, than someone who went for a proper knock out throw down sort of fight. It was nice to know that there were such marked differences between him and Dean. Because from his broken arm alone, it was obvious that the man who was still holding him steady leaned more towards solving all problems with his fists.

 

Balthazar was unlike either of them though. He was a lover, not a fighter. As smug and self satisfied as them come. But definitely not a fighter. He also wasn’t someone who could be pushed around, and he defiantly stood his ground in the face of Dean.

 

“I’ve got to admit, Nick.” He drawled in that honeyed accent of his, focusing in like it was still just the two of them alone out here. “I’m a bit disappointed.”

 

“ _You’re_ disappointed?” He choked on his amazement. “About what exactly? Are you disappointed that I finally found out about you lying and keeping me as a side hoe down here in the states? Or disappointed in me dumping you? Or is it just that you don’t like the fact that it was so easy for me to find an actual decent human being to spend my time with after I stopped wasting my life on you?” Nick laughed out a small and bitter sound. “Because you can go crawl up your own ass, Balthazar. I’m happy. Which is more than you’ve been able to do for me in a _long_ time.”

 

There were a few words left between them, but they were bitter and hollow and not worth repeating. What was important was that his ex finally left. Got in his car and drove away, and for the first time in forever if felt like it would actually stick.

 

“We could see and hear everything from the upstairs window.” Dean’s arm left Nick’s waist so he could point up to the lit window above them. The single, easy movement finally put some much needed distance between the two of them. “You were choking, dude.”

 

“I was fine.” Nick wasn’t really in the mood to be criticized right now. He’d prefer giving over a grudge filled thank you and going back upstairs. He made it as far as opening the door, still dazed over what had just happened.

 

“Maybe.” Dean shrugged. His shoulders shifting so easily beneath his tshirt as he moved past Nick and into the building. “I sure as hell don’t know you well enough to say one way or the other.  All I know is that your brother and mine looked like you’d just dropped the ball at the five yard line.”

 

Which might have been a football reference? Nick couldn’t be sure. He was more of a hockey fan, personally. He let it go. Knowing full well that Castiel must have been watching the whole thing unfold with that tragic expression of his. And Sam… Sam probably hadn’t formed any favorable opinions over the whole scene.

 

Once they were both safely in the enclosed stairwell, Dean turned, talking fast and low. “Honest, I only came down for Sammy. You might not know it, but he’s got the worst kind of crush on you.”

 

Nick stopped walking, the railing under his hand feeling oddly unfamiliar. “ _What_?”

 

“My brother. He likes you. He likes guys. He likes you. Watches your mouth when you talk, watches your ass while you walk. Kid’s got it real bad for you.” Dean shrugged again, keeping his words soft because they were obviously not meant to carry on past where they were. “Only I’m not supposed to know that he’s gay… hell, ‘m not even sure if he knows that he’s gay yet. Kid is so far in the closet that him and Aslan have tea and tiny sandwiches on the weekends. But he was watching you trying not to kiss that son of a bitch like it was the end of the world. I did what I needed to.”

 

Standing there a few feet lower than Dean, empty stairs and stunned silence noticably between them.  

 

Nick felt blindsided.

 

Dean _knew_?

 

“Keep it between us. Alright?” He continued with a short glance up to the top of the stair and the closed door waiting for them. “Like, I’m not trying to make things weird between you two. I know you guys are friends, and you're his boss too, or whatever. So that complicates things. But he’s smart and he’ll work it out on his own eventually. Just thought you’d like to know that I wasn’t down there for you… even though you needed it.”

 

Collecting himself as best as he could, shoving so many things down and out of the way to be over analyzed at a later date and time, Nick rolled his eyes and told a rather large white lie. “I was handling it just fine without your help.”

 

“Not from where we were watching you, you weren’t.” Dean laughed. “Now come on. We’re missing sharks.”

  
  
  



	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just going to put this here, typos and all. It's a big long chapter, a sort of sexy chapter (you're welcome).  
> I'm headed home in 2 days, and don't know how the return to normal life will weigh on my writing up the next/last chapter of this one. It's been a fun run, longer than I originally expected, expecially for such a doofy story idea. I've got just a couple lose ends to tie up before we tack an END on this thing.
> 
> I'm glad you guys made it this far with me.  
> I promise that the next story will try to have a bit more substance and plot other than 'i like him, hehe' <3  
> but in the mean time, enjoy just a big ol' pile of the nicest, mushyest words I could put together.  
> Goodnight, from the wrong side of my country, and if I don't talk to you guys again before we get there (and if you celebrate it) have a good and spoopy Halloween~

**-smug jerk**

 

A curl of a smile tugged at Sam, who waited an innocent length of time before very casually texting back, **-he was trying to help. we were all getting worried**

 

Nick glanced at his phone, then back at the television and whatever was happening with the sharks. He’d missed some important sort of something while he’d been arguing with his ex like two community theater kids. Not at all proud of how it had gone, especially considering that everyone up in his apartment had heard pretty much every word.  It came as a low blow to whatever face he still had left to save that _Dean_ of all people had been the one to come down and save Nick from himself.

 

Now there he was, sitting on the couch, catching up on the show with Castiel during the commercial break. Smugly not mentioning a word of what happened down on the sidewalk, or in the stairwell.

 

 **-he can take his help and shove it up his ass** , Nick finally typed. There was some odd unspoken _thing_ going on, where everyone in the room was pretending that Nick hadn’t just had a messy sequel break up with a man he’d dumped months ago, and yet still managed to have sex with last week. It meant that his exchange with Sam came in little aggressive bursts of texting and then they’d both go back to playing it cool, like they’d never even heard the words ‘private conversation’.

 

Five or so minutes passed. A documentarian voiced over some guys in scuba suits feeding some very chill looking reef sharks. Sam glanced at his phone and his mouth became a tight line which was neither a smile or a frown. Before he could form a reply though, Castiel leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and he looked with a very tired expression at Nick and then at Sam.

 

“Perhaps it would be easier for the two of you to talk downstairs in the shop… over something with a high sugar content, and no brothers around.” It could hardly be considered a suggestion with the weight of command that he forced into his words.

 

While Nick debated denying any knowledge of what he was being accused of, Sam beat him to it with a noble attempt of, “We we’re just-”

 

“Go have your buddy-buddy, after school special, touchy feely moment, dude.” Dean apparently was equally aware of what was going on, as he gave his younger brother a slightly less exasperated look than Castiel was able to manage on his end of the couch. “And then bring me up a piece of pie.”

 

“Dean,”

 

“No, I earned it,” he turned to look at Castiel beside him, defending himself. “I just pretended to be gay for your brother to get some fuckin son of a bitch, poster child for sexual harassment, full of himself, douche canoe , to hit the road. If that doesn’t deserve a piece of pie then nothing does.”

 

Nick didn’t like accepting help from people, and a few minutes ago he hadn’t been offered much of a choice. The anger of that didn’t play well with the anxiety laden furry over the fact that he’d had to defend his choice once more to Balthazar, and the knowledge that, without that unwanted outside assistance, he probably wouldn’t have been able to stand his ground. Again.

 

There were other feelings underneath all that caustic anger, and none of them good or healthy. For a quiet few seconds he played with the idea of just working out some of that aggression on Dean- but eventually decided that the likelihood of brotherly interference was high, and also, even with the cast on, Dean would probably do a lot more damage than he was likely to receive.

 

“I’m not bringing you any goddamned pie.” Was all Nick said before leaving the apartment, taking the stairs down the other way and going into the rather dark and quiet bakery. He didn’t wait for Sam. He didn’t turn on any lights. Nick just pulled out one of the metal chairs at the little tables they had for customers, and sat himself down in the quiet.

 

Before he knew it, he’d started to shake.

 

Bad feelings with no outlet tended, for Nick, to come out in tremors and uneven breathing while he did his best to find a stable and calm place inside himself. Counting so very slowly down from twenty, he did his best to push all thoughts of the last ten minutes from his mind, and focus instead on how he should be feeling liberated.

However, not even halfway to finding his happy place, he heard the steady footfalls of someone descending the stairs to join him.  

 

And oh, he wasn’t ready to play nice and have a talk with anyone right now.

 

But Sam… Sam was an unreasonably good man, possibly better than what Nick really deserved, and Sam quietly gave him space. Shuffling around in the background. Messing with the pastry case before going into the kitchen for a few minutes.

 

It gave Nick a swiftly closing window of time to start back at twenty and try counting his way down. Carefully clenching and unclenching his fists while reminding himself that Sam didn’t deserve to get yelled at. That Sam had nothing to do with anything that had happened. And that Sam was an easy target, but that Nick was better than that. He should and _could_ be better than that.

 

“Your brother said it’s your favorite,” a small stack of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies were placed in front of Nick. Followed by a glass of milk.  Sam didn’t sit though. He just hovered somewhere, a few feet back, and gave off an air of concern.

 

“Stop looming.” Nick pressed his hands over his face, fingertips fitting nicely into the curve of bone beneath his eyebrows. “I’m not a kid, and you’re not a worried parent.”

 

“It feels like it sometimes with you.” Sam sighed, and all that solid mass of warmth and muscle and good intentions folded down over Nick, strong arms settling around his shoulders like weights.

 

And he hadn’t been expecting a hug. “Don’t make it weird,” he sighed while he pressed the line of his spine back into the other man’s chest.

 

Sam chuckled and that gentle rumble wrapped around Nick and stilled him in a way that he hadn’t been able to manage on his own just yet. People that he’d known for years didn’t make him feel even half so comfortable, so willing to lower his defences. As if there had been any question at all to whether or not he planned to keep Sam, that sort of sealed the deal.

 

They stayed there in that awkwardly comfortable hug until Nick felt nothing more than tired, and rather safe. “I don’t like him,” he mumbled behind his hands, easily picking back up their abandoned conversation from upstairs. “Your brother has got no fucking boundries.”

 

“Dean has more boundaries than anyone I’ve ever met.” Sam chuckled again, his breath hot and weirdly pleasant along Nick’s skin. “He’s usually only like this with me.”

 

Dean had said as much in the stairs. “He told me that he only came down because you were starting to get weird.” Nick felt comfortable sharing that much of what he’d found out.

 

“I wasn’t getting _weird_ ,” Sam came to his own defence rather lamely, not even sounding like he was buying it. “I was just… you seemed like you needed a wingman, but I know you don’t like help… especially not with that kind of _thing_. And all I could do was stand there.”

 

“You know me so well, don’t you?” And maybe the words came out a little harder than he’d intended, but all that anger was still in him somewhere and apparently looking for a foothold.

 

“Don’t be like that.” Sam soothed, tightening the twist of his arms towards the direction of bruising. “I just watch you, and listen to you.”

 

“You listen to Castiel and his big mouth.”

 

“Your brother worries about you.”

 

“I _know_ -”

 

“Just like you worry about him.” Sam pressed a kiss into Nick’s hair. “It’s what you do for people you care about. Stop being so mad that we all like you, and eat your damn cookies.”

 

Nick fought to keep his smile down, lowering his hands and shaking his head. “You going to help me eat them?”

 

“Nope. Just going to stand here and smell your hair.”

 

“There’s no way in hell that I’m going to eat cookies while you creep back there and smell me.”

 

Sam smothered another one of those soft chuckles into the little dent behind Nick’s ear, following that gentle move up with a light kiss.

 

With no subtlety whatsoever, Nick let his head fall to one side, cheek resting against the other man’s forearm, while managing to expose as much skin as possible. “ ‘m not saying that I _won't_ eat cookies while necking, but it might start to get strange… for you at least. I’m kind of into it.”  

 

Something a bit less restrained than a chuckle rumbled out of Sam, and surprisingly that wasn’t a ‘no’. His mouth moved with some skill over the unprotected stretch of skin, teeth finding that small spot where Nick’s neck and shoulder met- and if Nick had been standing his knees would have gone weak. Sam had discovered that delightful little spot a few days ago, back when they’d been trying to get the spare bedroom ready for Dean’s visit, and had mostly just ended up distracting each other in satisfying ways. Time well spent, obviously.

 

Cookies, and pretty much the rest of the world, were flatly ignored in favor of tangling a hand into Sam’s hair and simply enjoying the attention he was getting. It was over all too soon though. the tight grip around his shoulders finally loosening as Sam slid past him and took a seat.

 

“But I wasn’t done,” Nick still had fingers pressed along the man’s scalp, shifting awkwardly as he attempted to keep the contact.

 

Smiling, a hint of dimples showing in whatever light was coming in from the parking lot, Sam leaned in for a glancing kiss. “Yes you are. Now eat the cookies. I warmed them up for you and everything.”

 

Knowing that he’d be pushing his luck, Nick let go. Poking at cookies that really were his favorites, and making a face. “They’re cold again.”

 

“Would have been warm if you ate them when I gave them to you.” Sam leaned back in his chair, looking so very at ease. “And I’m not reheating them for you, so don’t ask.”

 

“You’re heartless. You know that, right?”

 

Shrugging, Sam took one of the cookies off the plate and meticulously picked out a chocolate chip. “Is it ok if I go turn on a light or something?”

 

Speaking around the rather delicious bite of his own cookie that he had to tuck into a cheek, he argued, “no. The darkness suits my idiom.”

 

“Have I ever told you that you’re weird and I like you?”

 

Nick waggled his eyebrows, mostly because he was too charmed to really come up with a good response, but it got the other man grinning so…

 

“That means that you’re feeling a bit better then,” Sam asked as he continued to break apart his cookie, eating his way around the chocolate chips and leaving the unwanted bits in a small dark pile on Nick’s plate. “Am I going to ruin that if I tell you that you did really well?”

 

“Do you… do you have any idea how condescending that sounds?”

 

Sam tossed the next chocolate chip at Nick. “Come on. Don’t. I just… I know how hard that whole situation has been for you. You really stood your ground.”

 

There was some kind of misplaced pride and affection in that statement and Nick didn’t have the courage to say how he’d started to waiver near the end. It’s not like he had been about to take Balthazar back upstairs with him, but some kind of awful something had started to eat at his resolve. Is that what love was? Hating someone, but still wanting to forgive them? If it was, then Nick could only pray that it would go away.

 

Despite the fact that he _thought_ he did a good job of keeping the sickening mess of emotions and self loathing to himself, some part of it had to have shown on his face or in how he was chewing so very carefully, or _something_ that gave it all away to the man who’d spent too much time over the last few months watching him.

 

“You really stood your ground.” Sam repeated, quieter, but with more force as well.

 

“Trying to convince me, or you?”

 

Sam visibly clenched his jaw before saying in no uncertain terms, “I like to tell myself that you’ve made up your mind and that I don’t have to worry about one day coming home to find you and him in our bed.”

 

 _Our bed_.

 

Nick loved, and at the same time, really hated the sound of that.

 

So he took a swallow of milk and a second cookie. Seeing as they hadn’t made it past kissing and mild petting, it seemed important to point out, “really putting the cart before the horse there, don’t you think?”

 

“I’ve got plans for you.”

 

Ignoring the ominous answer for what it was, Nick felt that he’d be doing them both a disservice if he indulged them any longer without pointing out the obvious, “you do know that with a little looking, you could easily find someone a hell of a lot better-”

 

“Shut up.” Sam cut him off with a stern warning.

 

“ ‘m just making sure that you know about your options.”

 

With a frustrated noise, Sam leaned in, hand curling around Nick’s neck, as he pulled him into a kiss that was mostly teeth. “Shut up,” he whispered. “I like _you_. You’re weird, and you make me crazy, and I’m moving in with you once Dean goes home, and I like you.”

 

Oddly, Nick couldn’t think of another time anyone had said something even half as sweet to him. What else was there to say but, “dito.”

 

“ _Dito_?” Sam laughed, his thumb grazing Nick’s cheek before he kissed him again. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

 

“Hey, I just tried to give you an easy out.” In a smooth move, Nick mimicked Sam’s posture, fitting his palm along the man’s throat. “And you said ‘no’. So you’re stuck with me now. Sucks to be you.”

 

Their noses smooshed together in a delightful way as a better angle was found. Whispering between kisses, Sam sort of laughed the words, “you taste like peanut butter.”

 

A startled noise bubbled out of Nick as he chased after the other man’s lips, keeping as much contact as he could. “So do you.”

 

“Well, I guess we’re stuck together then, aren’t we?” Smiling made it more of a challenge to kiss, but they managed a few more. “No one else would want a couple peanut butter flavored idiots anyways.”

 

More accurately, why would Nick ever want anyone else?

 

.:.

 

It spoke to what a good mood he’d been put it, when coming back up to his apartment to find Castiel asleep with his head on the shoulder of a very distraught looking Dean, Nick did little other than smile.

 

“Sammy,” the trapped man whispered with some urgency. “You remember the pie?”

 

And of course Sam did. He was too good of a little brother to have forgotten to snag a piece of cherry pie from the case. He handed it over on a napkin, the pie looking only slightly worse from its trip.

 

“Oh yeah, come to daddy,” Dean grinned and managed an awkward bite as he held the pie gingerly in both hands and did his best not to move his shoulder.

 

Nick found the controller for the television and turned down the volume a bit, “uh, thanks for whatever earlier.” He gritted through the most uncomfortable bit of gratitude possible, getting it all out quick so he wouldn’t have to suffer. “You didn’t make it worse.”

 

“Dude was an ass hat.” Dean’s words were muffled around a mouthful of pie. “Even if that was the first time I’d ever seen either of you, I would have had to tell the son of a bitch to fuck off. No means no. I’m just sad I didn’t get a chance to punch him too.”

 

Weirdly, Nick believed that.

 

It didn’t make him like Dean any more… though it didn’t make him like him any less either. So there was that.

 

“How the hell did you end up with someone like that in the first place?”

 

“Poor self esteem and the promise of incredible sex.” Nick shrugged it off, trying not to let the personal question rile him up. He knelt down infront of his sleeping brother,  gently taking hold of both his shoulders before proceeding to shaking him somewhat violently. “Cassy,”

 

Horror movie zombies rising from their graves could take lessons from Castiel. His pale eyes rolled open, fluttering rapidly for a few seconds as he slowly focused on the room around his, his movements uncoordinated and jerky. “What happened?”

 

“You fell asleep.”

 

“No I didn’t.”

 

“You want to stay the night?”

 

“No,” like a confused toddler, Cassy was already putting his head back down while arguing over the fact that he wasn’t even a bit tired. His cheek resting so angelically against Dean’s shoulder. “I’m watching the sharks.”

 

“Come on. You can watch them in my room.” Nick gently pulled his brother up to his feet, steering him rather ungracefully down the hall.

 

“There isn’t a tv in your room.”

 

“But there’s a bed.

 

“Where will you sleep?”

 

“Don’t worry.”

 

Castiel was easy enough to deposit onto the bed, his shoes stolen without any resistance, and he was breathing deeply before Nick even got the blankets over him. In all likelihood, if previous experiences were anything to go off of, none of this interaction would be remembered by his brother come morning. He’d wake up and ask rather innocently if he’d fallen asleep here last night, and then he’d apologise and be his usual incorrigible self.

 

Coming back to the front room, Nick was faced with two Winchesters wearing matched expressions of men who had been utterly charmed.

“Shut up.” Nick said before they could even start. Sitting himself back down and trying to just enjoy what was left of his shark documentaries.

 

“He’s, uh…” Sam was still smiling.

 

“Dude sleeps like he means it.” Dean finished for his brother. “You should’ve seen him back in the motel. He was face down and snoring away before I even got my shoes off. It was impressive, I can’t lie.”

 

“He’s very serious about sleeping.” Nick refused to smile along, preferring to keep his affection for his brother to himself. Beside, he had the rest of his life to admire his brother’s commitment to bedtime, and only one week out of the year devoted to sharks.

 

Dean left two days later- after all, by then Shark Week was over as was his reason to stay. And if Nick had assumed that the moment those Impala’s tail lights had faded from view, that he’d be allowed to wrap himself around Sam, then Nick was nothing but disappointed.

 

The demanding mistress named School started back up, and it was nearly a week until Sam even had time to come into the shop to help like they paid him for, much less time to move his stuff in. And Nick didn’t want to be the sort of ‘boyfriend’ (he still didn’t feel right using that term, and possibly never would), who told Sam to stay after they’d closed for the night, and ignore his mountain of homework, just so that they could fool around… or even just so they could spend time together that didn’t involve the interruption of customers.  

 

Nick gave Sam a spare key though. Sternly telling himself that it was on a roommate basis and not a devastating step forward in relationship-basis and so it was nothing at all to get worried, or excited about. It still felt like something important, and rather anticlimactic as, over the next month or so he’d notice more and more of Sam’s things appearing in the apartment, heaped onto the bed in the spare room, on the kitchen table, in the bathroom. It was more like being haunted by a very tidy ghost who occasionally moved things, than having an actual roommate, or a significant other.

 

The first morning that they ran into each other before work honestly terrified Nick. He came out of the shower, dressed as far as pants, and shuffled himself to the kitchen, idly wondering why he smelled coffee. Assuming that his brother was down in the shop making some he hadn’t expected another human to just be sitting on his couch.

 

Stumbling back only a few steps and swearing rather colourfully, Nick let Sam know that he’d been spotted.

 

“Goodmorning to you too.” He laughed, though he tried to hide it. “There’s coffee in the pot… if you want.”

 

Clearing his throat and pretending that he hadn’t just been moderately frightened by a man studying a law book, Nick went into the kitchen in search of sustenance. “You, uh... stay the night last night?”

 

“Every night this week,” Sam answered rather surprisingly.

 

Wow. Nick was good at paying attention. It didn’t help that he had a very reasonable bedtime to go along with his early alarm clock- and that Sam had a few night classes this semester. They must have just missed each other each night. “So you’re all moved in then?”

 

A soft, affirmative noise was his only answer, and Nick smiled to himself as he poured a cup of breakfast.  “Classes going ok?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam sounded distracted.

 

“You studying?”

 

“Got my first test this morning,” such a gentle and yet dismissive set of words.

 

Nick caught the hint and stopped talking, proving to himself at least that he could handle this whole cohabitation thing without being a complete ass about it. He left his coffee on the counter to go finish getting dressed for the workday ahead. Coffee in hand and shoes on his feet, he waggled his fingers at the man on the couch. “See you later today?”

 

“Mmm, probably swing by around lunchtime.” Still rather distracted, Sam didn’t even look up from his last minute studying.

 

This was not the glamorous relationship that Nick had been expecting, and at the same time it was definitely at a speed that he knew he could handle. The two of them were friends before anything else, and there was something kind of comfortable in the normality of the situation, like they’d been doing this for years.

 

“Alright,” Nick sort of shrugged, taking the tentative plan for what it was. “Good luck on your test.”

 

Sam murmured something vague, but startled when Nick opened the front door. “Hey, hey wait,” he set his book aside and stood. “I haven't had much more than a hello peck since school started.”

 

To be honest, an opportunity hadn’t really presented itself. “Cassy’s made it clear that I’m not aloud to feel you up in the shop.”

 

“Well, we’re not in the shop right now, and I’ve been missing your face.” Sam came across the small room, bare feet so quiet on the carpet.

 

Kissing in the hall and _not_ spilling his coffee was more of a challenge than Nick had been anticipating so early in the morning. He was up for it though. One hand holding his warm mug off to the side, other hand somewhere between the small of Sam’s back and his ass, keeping close as the other man pressed him against the wall beside the open door.  It was the sort of slow, through, personal interaction that was most definitely not aloud downstairs. It was also over too soon. Sam sighing softly against Nick’s mouth.

 

“Might be enough to get me through the rest of the day.”

 

“Yeah?” It was one hell of a good way to finish waking up, and Nick smiled easily, pressing his forehead against Sam’s. “You think maybe you can find some time in your busy schedule for us to have that second date at some point?”

 

Sam had been holding on to him for a while now, and he tightened his arms with a grin. “Yes please.”

 

“Just tell me when.” Nick chuckled, keeping to himself the knowledge that he was dating an overly affectionate labrador. “And also tell me if you put out on second dates so I’ll know whether or not to shower first.”

 

“Oh my god. I- I don’t even-” grinning and laughing in such a beautiful way, Sam released him and gave a gentle push towards the stairs. “Just go to work. I’ll see you later.”

 

It was a good start to a fairly decent day.

 

It didn’t lead to a ‘date’ that night, sadly. Other than Sam putting in a few hours at work that afternoon, and a couple more the next day, Nick didn’t really get to see the other man that week. The time that they’d spent together in the last leg of summer had spoiled him. Because, really, even as dismal as that sounded, nothing had really changed between before Sam lived there and after he’d moved in. The man was in his second to last semester of school, he didn’t seem to have much time for anything other than school, school, and more school.

 

It was easy enough to just keep up the normal pattern of life, despite the occasional company for breakfast. Work was the same. Castiel was the same. Quiet dinners by himself, usually with a book or  bit of evening tv, hadn’t changed either. It was actually a very subtle and easy transition to live with Sam.

 

It was nearly two months in, a little after Sam’s midterms, before Nick noticed a real difference aside from the occasional morning coffee and kissing that they shared.

 

Maybe half an hour before he planned to tuck himself into bed for the night, mostly undressed, and one hundred percent done with the day, there came a tentative knocking at his bedroom door. Startled, he opened his eyes and took an unsteady breath, “yeah?” His voice sounded strange, even to himself and part of him wondered if it carried, a bigger part of him knew that he didn’t care.

 

“You sleeping, Nick?” Sam sounded almost apologetic as he asked.

 

“Uh, no.” He licked his suddenly dry lips. “I’m, um, actually touching myself inappropriately to thoughts of being double teamed by you and your brother.”

 

Sam laughed.

 

Because Sam thought that it was a joke.

 

Nick pressed the back of his free hand to his mouth, very much not joking, and very much suffering under the unexpected things that Sam’s voice did to him when he was like this.

 

“Wait, Nick… are you serious?” Morbid curiosity and disappointment mixed well out there on the other side of the door.

 

At this point however, waiting was not an option, and Nick bit back some interesting noises that he usually wouldn’t care about if he didn’t have an audience. It was hard to tell if he was more excited by or uncomfortable about the idea of Sam walking in on him in such a compromising position.

 

“Do you… um… need some help?”

 

And if Nick were capable of full coherent thoughts beyond the way that the sound of Sam’s voice made his chest tight and his usually steady movements lose their rhythm, then he would have been able understand what that offer meant. Instead of an enthusiastic ‘yes’, he panted out a, “just a- just gimme a sec.”

 

It was a little longer than that. A whole handful of _secs_ before what should have been a satisfying evening to himself got cut short as he gasped and moaned, and finally got a chance to catch his breath. Feeling slow and indecent, he cleaned himself up and fixed his pants. And his legs didn’t exactly feel like they were going to support his weight, but Nick still peeled himself up off the bed swaggered to the door.

 

The look on Sam’s face was priceless. Color high on his cheeks and his eyes dark with all sorts of ideas. “Hi there,”

 

“Um, let me go wash my hands and we can, um… talk like normal people.”

 

Sam stepped aside, letting Nick move past in his slow post coital kind of way. “You have zero shame. You know that?” He asked with a bewildered chuckle.

 

“Hey, I’m washing my hands.”

 

“Me and _Dean_?”

 

The water from the bathroom sink was cold and unpleasant when butted up against all those easy, warm feelings that had filled every other inch of Nick’s body. “Usually it’s just you, but there’s a first time for everything? Didn’t really work well for me though, to be honest. God I just want to smack that smile off his damn face though.”

 

In the mirror, Sam could be seen making a face of intense disapproval. “And if I told you I was doing the same, but thinking of _your_ brother?”

 

“Know for a fact that Cassy would not approve of being objectified like that.”

 

“ _Nick_ ,”

 

“If it counts at all, you were definitely in the starring role. He was only there as some rough foreplay.” He turned off the faucet and dried his hands on his pants, giving Sam an _‘I don’t fucking care what you think_ ’ smile. “So, what d’ja want to talk about, mister coming home a few hours early?”

 

Sam was throwing so much shade, blocking Nick’s exit from the bathroom with those broad shoulders of his. “Don’t know if I told you, but I’ve been getting some class hours in by helping out in the evenings with paperwork at a law firm here in town.”

 

This was in fact not something that Sam had shared, but it did explain how he managed to have school all day and almost every night.

 

“Well, I finished early.” Sam’s expression softened in increments. “I was sort of hoping for that second date that we’ve been meaning to get around to.  But you’re obviously… done for the night…”

 

And Nick was neither old enough, or tired enough to be fully spent. “Oh no. If you’re here and you’re free, then I’m yours.” There was probably not a measurement of tired that he’d be able to get to that would make him turn down time with Sam. “I can go get dressed if you wanted to go out, or-”

 

He lost track of that thought as the other man’s hands came down heavy to either of his cheeks. Trapping him and pulling him into a very deliberate kiss. It felt like being claimed. Like being branded with the roughness of it, as Sam lead him by the mouth back to the bedroom.  

The backs of his legs hit mattress and Nick slid his arms around the man who’d taken such beautiful control of the whole situation. “One hell of a date you got planned for us, you beautiful thing you.”

 

“This isn’t a date, Nick.” Sam took the criticism with a slow smile. “And I don’t share. Especially not with my brother. Not even in imaginary settings. Got it?”

 

“Yes, sir.” And seeing as everything in their friendship up until now had given no indication that they were ever going to get past this point, Nick wasn’t really sure what to do net. “Like I told you though, he really couldn’t do it for me.”

 

“Good.”

 

The possessiveness of that simple word made heat settle somewhere low and pleasant in Nick. It would have been difficult for Sam not to notice, seeing as how well they were pressed up against one another, and the younger man grinned with too many teeth before laying that mouth of his against Nick’s throat and laying claim with small, slow bruises that no one else would be able to miss.

 

As lovely as it was, Nick was not exactly a passive lover, and so began a strange struggle between him and Sam. Sam who seemed to want to slowly neck as his hands roamed curious and at some times skimming the line of too rough- whereas Nick wanted to kiss. To kiss and pull off clothes and find good reasons why the two of them couldn’t just stand here.

 

He’d managed to save them both from their shirts, and was working on the other man’s belt, and the zipper of his too tight jeans, when Sam managed to catch both his wrists and in an effortless move, pin them above Nick’s head.

 

“This would,” he twisted just a bit, testing the restraint and finding it rather nice, “it’d be a lot easier for you if there was a wall… or a bed behind me for stability.” Not that Nick was criticising, because he found that he weirdly enjoyed being manhandled, it was really more of a suggestion.

 

“Is there somewhere you need to be later?” Sam asked rather pointedly, guiding Nick’s arms around his shoulders, up and far away from all the good parts that he’d been unwrapping like a kid at Christmas.

 

“...no?”

 

Sam leaned against him, but with nowhere to go that movement meant that Nick was forced to sit back on the edge of the bed, and Sam just kept following him down, a knee pressing into the mattress between Nick’s thighs. “Are we under some time constraint that I don’t know about?”

 

Taking a shaking breath and laying back so that he could get a little distance between them and actually appreciate for a moment just how lovely a half naked Sam really was, Nick shook his head, “... not that I know of?”

 

“Then I’m going to need you to slow it down.”

 

Sam sitting on top of him, mostly undressed, hair a mess, buckle of his belt hanging open, was not exactly the sort of sight that instilled mere mortals to _slow down._

“Well,” grinning, no doubt like a madman, Nick laughed. “If you’ll pardon me, _kind sir_ , I’m just a little eager to feel you inside of me.”

 

How there was enough blood in Sam for him to be as notably hard as he was, and to also blush, was a true mystery. And as cute, and oddly fascinating as it was, a terrible thought dawned on Nick. Here he was pawing at Sam and undressing him like they were teenagers in the backseat of his parent’s car, which was a huge step up from all interactions before tonight.

 

“This, um… this isn’t your first time. Is it?”

 

“What?” Startled, Sam laughed, though he wasn’t blushing any less. “No. No, but it is my first time with you, and I’d like to take the time to make sure it’s done it right.”

 

In no way did Nick need a reminder that this one here was nothing at all like any of the other men who’d made it to bed with him before. It still caught him off guard.

 

“Yeah, um… yeah. We can do things your way.”

 

“Yeah?” Sam was still laughing, perched on top of Nick like he’d already won.

 

“Well, you know…” these weren't the sorts of things that Nick usually worried about and he was sort of in love with the fact that Sam did, “just to make sure it’s done right...”

 

And he did.

 

Good god, but Sam made sure it was done just right.

 

Nick lay there afterwards, the smaller of two spoons in some cuddling that he hadn’t signed up for, wondering what great deed he’d done in a past life to be rewarded for it now. He was sore in the best of ways, knew he wouldn’t be able to walk even if it was actually necessary, and thoroughly tangled up in sheets that were both sweaty and sticky, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt even half as good.

 

Light as a sigh, Sam kissed the back of his shoulder, whispering the first coherent words between them in a very long time, “so… on a scale of one to ten…”

 

“Twentythree.” Nick groaned into his pillow.

 

Sam rumbled with laughter, and kept on going, “ten being the highest-”

 

“Did I fucking stutter?” Nick slid his fingers sleepily down the arm that was hooked around his middle, finding the other man’s hand and taking it in his own. “I gave it a twentythree. Don’t question my judgement.”

 

“I wish my professors were as generous as you with their grading.”

 

“Do that with them and I guarantee you’ll have straight A’s.”

 

Sam held him a little tighter, kissing that same spot on Nick’s shoulder. “I already have straight A’s.”

 

 _Or course he did_ , was all Nick could think. His brain all muddled and happy. “Then stop your complaining, mister perfect.”

 

Untangling from the goofy hand holding just long enough to find some blanket to pull over them, Sam tucked them in. “Is it going to be alright if I sleep in here tonight?”

 

“I’ll be mad at you if you don’t.”

 

He’d meant it as a joke, but Sam took it rather seriously, and for the next year, there wasn’t a single night that he wasn’t there in bed beside Nick.

 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the goal had been 1 more chapter... but it started getting longer than I'd wanted it- so hey! for the sake of pacing and because it was a good cut off point that I'd reached, you can have this chunk now.

Nick was watching Sam look out the window. Early morning and foggy enough that the street outside and the parking lot below were difficult to make out. All that atmosphere didn’t dampen the guttural sound of a car’s engine announcing that they had company. His Sam wore a smile that had nothing to do with the fact that he’d taken a day off from his internship (a post graduation job that had turned out to be even more stressful than school). 

 

“That’s him.” The announcement was unnecessary, but still Sam grinned like a kid on Christmas. 

 

“Oh,  _ goodie _ .” Nick went back to his crossword puzzle from yesterday’s newspaper, not even remotely interested in getting up from the couch and his warm blanket. 

 

Sam grabbed up a hoodie from the back of a chair, pulling it on with such eagerness that Nick didn’t feel right pointing out that it was  _ his _ sweater not Sam’s. “You two are going to be nice to each other this time.” It wasn’t a question. 

 

“I’d be a hell of a lot nicer if I was allowed to still be dating you while he’s here.” Nick didn’t have a whole lot of fight left in him over this subject. Sam had already shifted all of his things back into the spare bedroom, and kissed Nick goodbye this morning over coffee and pancakes. 

 

“I’m not ready to…  _ come out _ to him yet. Alright? His birthday’s tomorrow and knowing his little brother likes men would literally be the worst possible present to give him.”

 

Nick’s hands may have been lightly ruining the edges of his paper, but keeping his frustration in check wasn’t the easiest thing. Even knowing how this would go, he tried again with a subject that had never gotten very far between them. “How do you still not get that your brother already knows you’re gay?”

 

“He does  _ not _ , and if you say anything about it to him we’re getting divorced.”

 

If only that were an option. “Maybe it slipped your mind, but we’re not married, you beautiful, frustrating, and very gay, son of a bitch.”

 

“A  _ friend-vorce _ then. Don’t think I won't.” Sam’s own annoyance took the shine off his otherwise good mood. “And I happen to know quite a few very good family lawyers, I can probably get custody of Cas.”

 

Tucking his pen behind an ear, Nick set aside his newspaper. “Go let your Dean in- and keep your hands, and legal action, away from my brother.”

 

“Mmmhm,” Sam hummed, leaning down to plant a light kiss on Nick’s lips, and then on the tip of his nose- something that they needed to do to each other with some regularity. It meant that they were still ok, that there were no hurt feelings, just ruffled feathers. “I’m going downstairs. Please be nice when we come back.”

 

“You going to give him the same lecture?”

 

With a laugh, Sam went for the door, “you know I already did, and I will again. And again. And again, until the two of you make nice.” A threat that he would no doubt make good on.

 

A few months back, right after graduation, Sam had gone back west to visit his family for a week. Not Nick though. Nick had happily stayed behind, and after more than a year of living a Dean free life (one summer to the next and then on into the winter and past New Years) it was hard for Nick to adjust to that particular attention seeking, and rather charming, jerk lounging around his home and being uncomfortably good friends with his baby brother. 

 

It was hard to tell when it had even happened. As far as he was aware, Castiel and Dean hadn’t had any kind of interaction since last summer. But Dean had only been there in his home for about two hours before Cassy showed up, said his usual halting kind of hello, and settled himself in- edging closer until the two dark haired men were sitting on the couch with knees and elbows touching, talking like they’d been best friends since they were toddlers.  

 

There was something odd that Nick was missing in all of this, but it was easy to not care about the how, and instead hone in on the  _ why _ . 

 

“Leave it alone,” Sam hissed from over Nick’s shoulder, lurking behind him in the kitchen and so easily reading his mind. “He doesn’t make friends easily... this is a good thing.”

 

It didn’t really matter which of the two men Sam was referring to, both of their brothers had very different, but equally questionable people skills. “Aren’t you the least bit bothered that he’s spending all his time with my brother?”

 

“Dean just got here. That’s hardly  _ all _ his time. Also, I’m not insanely jealous like you, so…”

 

Nick did not justify that with a response. He just grabbed a few beers from the fridge and went to the front room. They hadn’t even started figuring the logistics of the four of them having lunch yet, but apparently Dean had been awake for hours and hours to get here as early as he did, and with some authority he’d declared it time enough for drinks.  

 

With a small frown, Castiel shook his head at the offering. “You know I don’t drink during the day, Nick.”

 

“Come on,” Dean urged, brandishing the bottle opener that he apparently kept on his key chain. “Barely any alcohol in beer, and it’s basically made of bread. More like a light snack than a drink.” 

 

“I will have  _ one _ drink, after dinner.” Castiel had some very clearly established limits. And something very odd must have happened to  him recently because, for the first time that Nick could remember, his younger brother looked uncomfortable with his choices being scrutinised. “But I can go and make myself some tea... so I’m not the only one not drinking something.”

 

“Oh,” Sam looked overly interested in the sudden non-alcoholic option, as if he didn’t live here and personal purchase the various boxes of tea that were crammed into the cabinet over the fridge.  “Can I get some too?”

 

Taking a long drink from the bottle that he held like a lover, Dean glowered at his younger brother. “Really, Sammy?  _ Tea _ ? It’s like I don’t even know you.”

 

“I’ve always liked tea.”

 

“And you’ve always made me sad.” 

 

The whole visit was off to a fantastic start.

 

There was lots of talking, catching up (even though both Sam, and apparently Cassy, had been in close contact with the man for his whole absence)- so really it was mostly NIck that was getting to share and be shared at, which was unfortunate because Nick really didn’t care. Or at least he really didn’t want to. There was just something so… so… 

 

There was just something about Dean, that despite his best efforts to the contrary, Nick found himself joining in the conversations and smiling more often than he’d like.  

 

It was takeout pizza for lunch (which Castiel politely criticized the quality of), and then they all spent about an hour arguing over the fact that they wanted to see a movie, but apparently not the same type. Nick wanted something scary. Dean wanted something with lots of guns and explosions. Cassy wanted neither of those things, and Sam just wanted them all to stop arguing because they were, after all, in public, and ‘c _ an we please just pick  _ anything,  _ because people are starting to look at us’ _ . 

 

“Well, how ‘bout it’s my birthday so I get to pick the movie.” Dean’s argument would have worked better if it was true- but it was still a few hours until his birthday was official. 

 

A fact that Nick was just about to point out, until he saw that pleading look on Sam’s face. That silent begging for them to just behave themselves. And seeing as a sullen and moody Sam was one of Nick’s least favorite things to deal with, he gave in as a way of keeping peace. “Fine, but when Cassy gets scared from the loud noises, you’re the one who's going to have to hold his hand.”

 

Dean’s nose wrinkled. “Dude, if he gets spooked, he’s your brother-”

 

“You’re behaving like children.” Castiel looked between them both with a steady expression before pushing past and going to buy his ticket.

 

And Nick took pride in his own juvenile behaviour, but Dean looked mildly offended by the comment. Not  _ too _ offended though, because once tickets were purchased and they all saw themselves into the already darkened theater, Dean sat himself down between Cassy and Sam like he belonged there. 

 

Between the safe choice of sitting beside his own brother, or the more entertaining option of sitting beside Sam, Nick found himself at a loss. While he lingered at the edge of their row the preview trailers ended and the movie started. Gunfire and shouting from one side of the screen to the other and Castiel visibly tensed, making Nick’s choice for him. 

 

“Hey,” he leaned into Castiel’s shoulder as he sat down, “if it gets to be too much you let me know. I’ll go outside with you.” It was just one of those things you do as an older sibling. You make promises that you hope that you don’t have to keep, with full intent to follow through out of a sense of overprotectiveness. 

 

One of the many reasons that Cassy had given for his very unexpected change in career a few years back, from accountant to baker, was that all the loud noises gave him headaches- though for the life of him Nick had never been able to figure out what sorts of terrible noises one expected to hear in an clerk’s office. 

 

Halfway into the movie (a western flick with a lot of popular actors and a lot of unlikely accents), something brush Nick’s shoulder, and assuming that it was just Castiel having reached his limit of guns, he turned to his brother to ask if he wanted company out in the relative quiet of the theater’s hall. It wasn’t Cassy tapping at him to get his attention though, oddly enough it was Dean’s hand. That little bit of contact between the son of a bitch and Nick seemed to be wholly accidental though, just a miscalculation as the man slipped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. 

 

Briefly, Nick considered breaking most of the fingers in Dean’s hand. The fact that he couldn’t hear the words that were being whispered to his brother over the sounds of the film did nothing at all to help that feeling. Castiel seemed equally surprised and confused by the touching, but he was rather quickly nodding in agreement and easing himself against the other man like it was the most normal thing in the world.

 

After that, Nick really didn’t do much movie watching.

 

.:.

 

“He was  _ not _ hitting on Cas.” Sam was laughing. He’d been laughing since Nick first made the suggestion. “Dean’s not what you’d call subtle. If he was making a pass at your brother then the whole room would have known it.”

 

“They were…  _ snuggling _ .”

 

Whatever comeback or reasoning that Sam intended had to be put on hold while he practically cackled.

 

“He had his arm around my brother and now they’re off together doing only god knows what, and I’m fine going to jail for murder. I hope you know that.”

 

“Oh my god, Nick.” Sam took him by the back of the neck and gave him a kiss that was mostly swallowed in laughter. “No. Calm down. They didn’t elope, they just went to the grocery store.”

 

“There’s no excuse for anyone to be touching my brother that much.”   

 

“He’s a full grown adult and allowed to make friends with whomever he wants. Even if that  _ whomever  _ happens to be my brother.”

 

Nick didn’t relax an inch, and actually took a bit of offence at having a word like  _ ‘whom _ ’ thrown at him. A feeling that obviously showed on his face because Sam was once again kissed his lips with a soft smile before placing a second kiss between his eyes in that infuriating and yet disarming way. 

 

“It’s nice that Dean wasn’t being a selfish ass for once, and tried to comfort your brother.” Sam let his hand slide slowly from the back of Nick’s neck and down over his chest.

 

“He didn’t need  _ comforting _ . Cassy just hates loud noises. You know that.”

 

“Well, then maybe he was bribing cas to stay. All I’m saying is that you’re freaking out over nothing, because my brother doesn’t  _ snuggle _ and he doesn’t flirt with men in dark rooms.”

 

“Yeah, you keep saying that- but I know what I saw.”

 

Sam just laughed again. Laughed and let go of Nick. “I’m going to get some paperwork done, you just keep standing around being a paranoid old man. You’re good at it.”

 

Oh Nick would. 

 

And he did. 

 

Because he was.

 

For the few eternally long minutes that it took for their brothers to get back from the grocery store that was just down the street, Nick paced and planned what he would do if anyone put so much as a finger where it shouldn’t go.

 

But after one of Castiel’s expectedly amazing dinners, followed by a couple slow games of cards, a few beers, and a lot of joking around mixed with good conversation- Nick started to realise that Sam was almost definitely right. He  _ was  _ an overprotective and paranoid old man, and what he’d witnessed in the theater was nothing but an innocent pass at a fresh friendship. A clumsy and odd one to be sure. 

 

Castiel headed home once he’d finished nursing his singular beer, leaving without a single longing glance, or too much of a smile traded between him and Dean. Nothing at all suspicious or out of place, just a promise of a fresh pie tomorrow morning for birthday breakfast and an awkward little nod and wave to the room as a whole while he let himself out.    

 

“He’s a weird little guy, isn’t he?” Dean asked no one specific as he shuffled the deck of cards that he’d brought with him from home, getting ready for another hand despite the fact that they were now down a player.

 

Feeling easy from his own two shots of very cheap whiskey (because he didn’t have anywhere else to be tonight and the beer hadn’t been enough of an assurance of easing his tolerance to the man sitting across from him), Nick actually didn’t balk at the comment, but instead found himself smiling just a touch. “I like him.” 

 

Eyes lighting up with a spark of amusement, Dean dealt out the cards. “Yeah?”

 

“Think I might keep him.”

 

With a soft grunt that could have been taken as agreement, Dean looked to his own brother, thoughtful. “Now that the kid’s gone, you two want to make things more interesting?”

 

It took a moment for Nick to realize that Dean was referring to Castiel, who happened to be a whole two years younger than Sam. Though it was probably his lack of any kind of card skills that earned him the terrible title of ‘kid’, instead of his age. 

 

Redistributing out the poker chips so they would all start on a level playing field, Nick considered the offer and who it was coming from. “What are we betting?”

 

A hook of a smile curled the right corner of Dean’s mouth as he lifted up the hand that he’d dealt to himself and surveyed it like a king looking out over his kingdom. “Winner gets to keep both brothers.”

 

A startled, almost embarrassingly bird-like laugh caught in Nick’s throat. 

 

“Hey, I’m playing this hand too.” Sam’s eyebrows had climbed a sceptical half inch as he looked at his own cards. “What do I get if I win?”

 

Dean’s grin went wide. “You can keep me, and I’ll even throw in blondie over there.”

 

“I’ve already got both of you idiots. Lock, stock, and barrel.” Non pulsed, Sam rearranged his cards, the little bits of coated paper looking so small in his hands. “What I’d  _ really _ like is a way to get rid of you two.”

 

“How can you say something like that,” Dean played the injured man so well, his eyes going a touch soft as he put a hand to his heart, “to your own flesh and blood? To your only brother? On this, the day before his birthday. You hurt me, Sammy. You hurt me.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam had apparently heard all this before, and was not moved in the slightest. He tossed down two of his blue plastic chips into the center of the table. “I’m going to hold.”

 

“ _ Hold _ ?” Incredulous that his brother wasn’t going to swap a single card from his hand, Dean made a face. “I know for a fact you don’t have shit because that’s what I dealt you.” The man had zero shame about his own blatant cheating. 

 

Laying his cards face down on the table, Sam just sat back, expectant. “You going to play or what, old man?”

“When I win, I’m keeping Cas, and I’m trading you in for someone who’s less of an ass. Maybe a sister.” Dean swapped out two of his cards and looked so very thoughtful. “One with long legs and a tight ass.”

 

Nick had just been peacefully sitting back and enjoying the whole little argument and didn’t feel it right to point out the two large flaws in Dean’s plans. First, being that Sam already had long legs and the finest ass in the continental United States. Second, Dean would hardly be in a position to make good on those lovely female attributes, seeing as they would belong to his  _ sister _ , and that had to be a hard pass for any and all rational humans. 

 

Third- because a third point needed to be tacked on- Nick had no intention losing his baby brother in a rigged poker game, to a son of a bitch like Dean. 

 

Half an hour later, double the drinks, and a fair amount of hollow insults thrown around, and Nick had managed to lose not only Cassy, but his eventual first born child, his imaginary summer home in Vermont, and his non existent timeshare in the Caribbean. To be fair though, Nick was really more used to playing Go Fish or Hearts with his brother. And four shots of whiskey into the night, Nick wasn’t exactly playing at the top of his game. 

 

Dean was slack in his chair (he’d been dipping into the whiskey as well), a haphazard pile of poker chips and messily scrawled IOUs spread out in front of him. “Well boys, I think I’ll let you off easy tonight.”

 

“Easy?” Cheeks gone a bit rosey and grin a bit messy, Sam laughed. “You have  _ all _ the chips, you cheater.”

 

“But I’m cutting you both off before someone signs away their soul or something.” He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, nice line of muscles tight across his chest. “I’m real generous like that.”

 

“What would you do with a soul anyway?” Sam settled his last empty beer bottle down beside the others.

 

“What am I going to do with your diploma?” Came the counter question as Dean flicked a clumsy nod towards one of the scraps of paper with Sam’s tidy handwriting on it. “Or Nick for that matter? I’d find use for a couple old souls- but I know my limit when I reach it.”

 

“Wait-wait- wait,” all of Nick’s better judgement, not that he’d ever had that much to begin with, had gone fuzzy about a half a shot ago. “At what point did you win  _ me _ ?”

 

Pulling a face of utmost concentration, Dean rocked forward in his chair, rifling through all his ill gotten notes before holding up one with a  _ humm _ of triumph. Nick’s name written on it in neat letters like damnation. 

 

“How is that fair?” Nick demanded with words that only slurred around the edges. “Sam can’t bet me. I’m an independent entity.” 

 

Dean’s head fell back with a deep laugh that could have shaken the paint from the walls. “ _ You _ bet you, you ass.”

 

That… oddly did sound like something that Nick had the vaguest recollection of doing at some point earlier in the evening. “Well, hell.”

 

“Don’t worry, big boy.” Dean winked. The bastard actually winked. “I’ll be gentle with ya’.”

 

“You touch me, an I’ll break that pretty face of yours.” Nick was looking around for what should have been left of the whiskey, but the bottle was sitting on the floor and quite empty.  “You can keep the house, and the kids, and the… whatever else though I guess. You lousy cheat.”

 

“A guy wins a few hands at cards and suddenly he’s a cheat.” Dean fell back to that mock injured tone that he did so well. “How’s that for appreciation of inherent skills?”

 

“Your only  _ ‘skill’ _ ,” Sam bit the word off clean, “is your ability to stack a deck in your favor.”

 

“Slander!” A surprisingly steady finger was pointed at Sam’s chest. “Lies and slander.”

 

Blowing his big brother off with an audible puff of a dismissive sigh, Sam got to his feet. “You’re ‘lies and slander’, and I’m going to bed.”

 

“Yeah, you go to bed, you big light weight.” An immeasurable amount of affection was pressed up against Dean’s words and his sloppy smile.   

 

Shaking his head Sam rose from the table. Dean got a firm and brotherly smack on the shoulder, and Nick was given a hint of a smile and a little wink, before Sam took himself to bed. To bed in his own room that he hadn’t used in months and months- and the gravity of it sort of hit Nick for the first time. Enough that he almost called out before Sam’s door close, asking him to wait, asking for a kiss goodnight, for something. But it wasn’t final he had to remind himself. They’d see eachother again in the morning- and really, as soon as their visitor went back home, they’d be free to kiss and touch and just roll around all over each other as they saw fit. Nick just hadn’t really braced himself for being someone’s dirty little secret. Or what that would feel like. 

 

Dean was collecting up the scattered cards with deliberate care. Alcohol slowing his movements, he was still surprisingly steady. “At least you two sorted yourselves out,”

 

Tensing in a way he hoped wasn’t noticeable, Nick asked, “excuse you?” Because he’d been forbidden to talk to Dean about any sort of anything going on between himself and Sam and this felt like stepping into a bear trap.

 

Chuckling, the other man nodded towards the closed bedroom door. “He doesn’t look at you like a love sick puppy anymore. Got over his little crush I guess.”

 

“Maybe living with me sort of helps break that spell.” Nick answered back carefully, not really enjoying the sideways sort of white lie, but also wanting to do his best to avoid pissing Sam off by coming out for him..  

 

“Well, that- and he’s a neat freak, book nerd, weirdo who folds his socks,” Dean set aside his deck of cards in favor of rolling a little red poker chip between his first two fingers. “You’re not really either of eachother’s types I’m guessing. Just took him a bit to figure it out.”

 

“I don’t know… someone who folds his socks might be good for me.”

 

Dean laughed. Just this rich, warm rumble of a sound. “Dude, I’m still hoping that now that he’s done with school he might relax for once. Enough to realise that he’s allowed to date whoever the hell he wants to, and maybe they can help him take that stick out his ass.”

 

How it was possible that Dean could have picked up on Sam’s most personal secret, but never noticed that his baby brother had actually been dating other guys since high school (Nick and Sam had had many, many late nights just laying beside each other to talk about everything and nothing, and Sam’s dating life had come up fairly early on), was absolutely bizarre to Nick.  

 

“Have you ever considered just… I don’t know… talking him about it?”

 

“Hell no.” Dean raised his chin, the liquor glint in his eyes making him look so very defiant. “What do I look like, some kind of sissy who talks about feelings and shit?”

 

Whiskey whispering all sorts of bad ideas to him aside, Nick simply put his hands up in a show of surrender. “You know what, obviously it’s working out great for you two so far, so I’m gunna stay out of it.”

 

“Good man.” Came something sort of like a compliment.

 

_ A good man who is naked under your brother on a regular basis _ , Nick thought with a feeling an awful lot like satisfaction. Wondering if Dean would still be so friendly towards him if he knew that beautiful truth. 

 

“Well, this good man’s going to get himself some water to see if he can’t get the room to stop spinning.” Nick pulled himself up to his feet, using the table to steady himself because he wasn’t at all sure that he could manage the movement without some kind of help. 

 

“Some for me too.” Dean didn’t actually ask. “Don’t think I’ll have a hangover tomorrow, but ‘m no good to drive. You know?” 

 

It was a familiar and very relatable level of drunk. Nick knew it well. He was there himself. It was a nice place to be. 

 

He finished off most of a glass of water before filling a second cup and bringing it to the table. “Drink up. ‘m going to see if I can find you some blankets or whatever.” January wasn’t kind, even with the apartment’s little heater going full blast. It took a bit of digging around in the back of his closet before two extra blankets were unearthed, a task that should have been attended to the day before- but Nick had been rather distracted by Sam and vice versa. 

 

Coming back down the hall, arms full of warmth to lend a man he didn’t particularly like, Nick was accomplishing his good deed for the day. He dumped the blankets onto the couch and turned to see that Dean was still parked at the table, curled over his phone and texting away using just his left thumb. Something very odd and clumsy about the little movements, and in the whole visual of it that Nick couldn’t quite place. 

 

But it came to him and his tired mind with a startling level of clarity, so sudden and so simple. 

 

That wasn’t Dean’s phone.

 

Not that Nick had the faintest clue what brand phone the other man used- but he sure as hell was able to recognise his own phone being held by someone else.

 

“Um, hi?” Only, he wasn’t quite sure how to approach that one. 

 

Dean nodded, but didn’t look up from his texting. “Hello yourself.”

 

“I don’t remember losing my phone to you during poker.”

 

“You didn’t. But you left it on the table when you got up.” His eyes flicked to Nick, accompanied by a cheshire curl of a smile. “I’m just texting Cas.”

 

“Fucking text him on your own phone.”

 

“First, my phone is dead and I don’t feel like digging out the charger from my bag. Second, I don’t have his number. Makes it mighty hard to text someone when you don’t have their number.”

 

“Wow, sad story.” Nick came over. “Leave him alone. It’s nearly midnight, you’re gunna wake him.”

 

“He’s already up.”

 

“Don’t wake up my brother with my phone. He’s going to be pissed at me tomorrow.”

 

“Chill,” Dean rolled his eyes. “He knows he’s talking to me, not you. Also, you should consider putting a password or something on your phone. Any old asshole could just get on here and find out... all sorts of personal stuff.”

 

Holding his hand out with all the expectation that the demand would be followed, Nick simply said, “give.”

 

“When I’m done,” looking up, Dean just had this air of annoyance. “ ‘m waiting for his answer.”

 

But Nick wasn’t in a waiting mood, not when  _ personal stuff _ was on the table. It was too vague and too threatening, and he had no idea if there had been anything private in his recent texts with his brother. Or anything incriminating in his recent texts to Sam. God, but there was almost definitely nothing  _ but  _ incriminating texts between him and his boyfriend. So, he grabbed for his phone. 

 

He was fast, but Dean was faster.

 

For a man who was self admittedly half drunk, Dean had some stunning reflexes. Rolling out of his chair and stumbling to his feet, halfway across the room before Nick even realized what was happening. 

 

“Fuck you, you squirrelly bastard.” Nick pursued, not maneuvering himself any more gracefully around the table and chairs. “Give it back. I don’t want you poking around.”

 

“Again, that’s what passwords are for.” It was a testament that, above and beyond any ‘good ol boy’ facade that Dean presented, under it all he was still someone’s jerk of an older brother. He kept an even distance between the two of them, still managing to text on the stolen phone while he back stepped himself around the coffee table and back towards the kitchen. 

 

Apparently the unexpected placement of the kitchen’s little island threw off their awkward dance- tripping Dean up with a startled  _ oof _ . Nick caught hold of the other man, grabbing at the phone a second time, and it shouldn’t have been a struggle after that point because he was taller by an inch or two. Even with Dean holding the phone high up in the air, Nick should have been able to reach it, but Dean was startlingly stronger. They fought in such a shamefully uncoordinated way that any pride either of them had had up until that point must have fled. 

 

It wasn’t until their belt buckles knocked together, a surprisingly loud noise in the otherwise fairly quiet apartment, that things came to an awkward stop. Dean’s back to the fridge as he arched the phone up high over his head, his other arm braced against Nick’s neck and shoulders to keep as much space between them as he could manage. And Nick- Nick had a tight hold on both Dean’s shirt as well as the arm holding the phone. They were stuck like that, huffing and puffing and struggling to push or pull each other those last few needed inches to win.

 

Dean broke first. A rough two seconds after their belt buckles clattered together, he started laughing. Still holding the phone above his head, and just chuckling through an open grin.

 

And that’s about the same time that Nick realized what a ridiculous position they, two grown men, had gotten themselves into. He still wanted his phone back, but that thought came secondary to a smile and a sort of confused, “so, um… we don’t tell Sam about this.”

 

“We absolutely don’t tell Sam about this,” still laughing softly, the sound captive between them where they were still locked together. “Because what Sammy doesn’t know, doesn’t get us bitched at in the morning about.”

 

The fact that Dean was making breathing a challenge for Nick by the forearm still pressed against his throat, and the fact that Dean would almost definitely have a hand shaped bruise around his wrist all sort of broke the rule about them not fighting. 

 

Trying to lighten the mood without loosening his grip, because he still wanted his damn phone back, Nick took notice off something that had been bothering him since hey got into this position, “did’ja know that you’ve got freckles?”

 

Dean kept laughing, obviously trying to keep it down, probably aware of the fact that his baby brother was passed out in the next room. “I’d noticed that. Yeah.” He let his head fall back against the fridge, dislodging a magnet and a couple receipts that fluttered towards the floor. “You know you and Cas have the same eyes?”

 

“...they’re both blue?”

 

“The same blue. Same very, very blue eyes.”

 

Which was a weird thing to notice, and a weirder thing to say to someone. But Nick had sort of mentioned the freckles, so he supposed that odd personal comments were fair game at this point.  The fact that Dean’s gaze kept flicking down towards his mouth though… that was odd. It made Nick feel a bit paranoid- like maybe he’d missed a spot when he’d shaved that morning.

 

It was weirder when Dean let up on the tension of his arm held against Nick’s shoulders, giving up on the space between them. Eyes fluttering closed, lips parting, leaning like… like if he were anyone else, that he’d be going in for a kiss.

 

“...what are you doing?” Despite what it seemed like, Nick’s rational brain knew that he was misreading it somehow.  

 

That grin of Dean’s had gone funny. Not  _ ha ha _ kind of funny. Just… different than it had been a few seconds before. Different in a way that did something unexpected to Nick. He supposed that it was just evidence that mind and body wouldn’t always be on the same page, despite his better intentions.

 

“Come on,” the sharp edge of Dean’s teeth caught against his lower lip, setting his grin lopsided and somehow damningly more charming, “you saying you’re not tired of us dancing around each other like this?”

 

“... _ what _ ?”

 

“The way you’re always looking at me?” Like he’d done it a thousand times before, the most natural movement in the world, Dean slipped along the line of Nick’s neck, rough fingers tickling sensitive skin and sending an unwanted shiver down the base of his spine. “I know you want it as bad as I do.”

 

Whiskey was a hell of a drink, because for a fraction of a second, Nick actually considered the offer.

 

Considered the hell out of it right up until Dean did that leaning in thing again- then almost nearly every inch of Nick recoiled. He released the other man, letting go of his shirt and letting go of that arm that held his phone from him. Giving up on saving the phone in favor of saving himself. The first proper words of self defense that he found came out in a hurry, “I’m dating someone.”

 

A pinched frown formed between his eyes, Dean didn’t look mad, or even all that bothered, just sort of surprised. “Really? God, tell me it’s not that smarmy son of a bitch again.”

 

“ _ Balthazar _ ?” Nick choked on the name. “God no… no. It’s uh, it’s a different guy.”

 

“Oh,”  Dean chuckled at the strong response to his question, folding his arms over his chest and looking as relaxed as a man who hadn’t just propositioned his younger brother’s boyfriend could really look.  “A better guy this time around?”

 

“Others don’t even come close.” Nick felt for all the world like he’d been punched in the gut, reeling as what just almost happened started to catch up with him. All the stories that he’d ever heard of Dean had sort of centered around the man and his equal love of cars and women. If he liked men (even just recreationally) then his younger brother sure as shit didn’t know about it. 

 

And this wasn’t healthy. Two brothers, supposedly as close as the Winchesters were, really had a lot that they needed to get off their chests. Not Nick’s problem though, he reminded himself- pushing it all to the back of his mind to deal with when he was slightly more sober and considerably less turned on and confused.

 

“I’m kind of in love with the guy.” Focusing on what really mattered here helped Nick to take a nice step back, getting even more space between him and the man that he really needed not to reach out and touch again. “…might even get up the courage to tell him eventually.”

 

A soft, almost tender look came over Dean and it probably had something to do with the haze of alcohol that still lingered around his edges. “Gross, man… but congrats.”

 

“Thanks?”

 

“Didn’t know you were taken… so sorry about the-” Dean trailed off, sort of making an unsure gesture with one hand between them, “you know.”

 

“Yeah,” he knew.

 

Dean’s eyes trailed down Nick, drifting much further south than his mouth this time. “You ever want to work out some of that angry sexual tension we’ve got going though, I put my number in your phone.” As if suddenly remembering that he was holding the start of all this mess, Dean looked down at the phone and a lesser version of his earlier grin crept into place. “Ah, here we go, Cas finally texted back. He says he won't be mad if you and me did it- but he also says that that I might want to reconsider, seeing as you’re ‘dating someone and sort of hate me’.”

 

“You asked my brother’s permission?”

 

“Course I asked. We’re friends, and I didn’t want to make things weird.” Dean’s laughter got cut off by a yawn. So easy and relaxed. “Is that true though, boss? Do you _ sort of  _ hate me?”

 

Nick attempted to stay focused. “You think maybe you should have waited for his answer before you just went for it?”

 

“Hey, I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

 

“How’s about we never bring this back up to Cassy, he’ll probably forget all about it by morning- and we never ever even bring it up to Sam.”

 

“Oh hell no. We’re  _ never _ telling Sammy about this.”

 

It was nice knowing that they could agree on the important things.

 

“Now give me back my damn phone.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic, more than any of the ones I've plodded my way though before, has been such a struggle to find the end of. The where and the how have changed so many times.   
> I'm happy with this though. It's a soft sort of ending, to a soft sort of story.  
> These past few months have been rough and getting to fool around with this goofy story has been soothing to my soul. I hope it was a bright spot for you guys as well.

Sam had walked into Nick’s life nearly two years ago to the day. The man had been looking to find some last minute pie for his brother’s birthday, and Nick had had no concept at the time how life changing that little meeting would be for him. Just like he’d had no idea that, even after living together for a year and a half, seeing Sam stumbling around the kitchen in sweats and a tshirt, would still ruin him. 

 

He hadn’t lied last night to Dean.

 

It really was, as terrible as it sounded, love.

 

Nick had been fortunate enough to find and fall for possibly the best person he’d ever met, who even when he was half asleep and with a slight hang over, was nothing but gorgeous. Distractingly handsome, with a hundred watt smile that never failed to make Nick’s knees a bit weak. Sam was simultaneously the best and worst thing that had ever happened to him.

 

“The three of you look like a public service announcement to encourage people to lead clean and sober lives.” Castiel took the small plates from Sam and brought them to the table where a golden crusted apple pie was steaming lightly. 

 

“I only had one more beer after you left,” Sam lied, but it was hard to tell if it was intentional or out of forgetfulness. “It was those two dummies who finished off a bottle of whiskey between them.”

 

A reminder that Nick didn’t want or need. He’d already taken a small handful of aspirin and quietly started to stew in his regrets before getting ready to head down to work. Shoes on his feet and everything before Cas had let himself into the apartment with breakfast pie and a promise that he’d put a sign on the front door: saying that they’d be opening today at eight-thirty instead of at seven. It gave them time for a slower start to the day. 

 

“Nick doesn’t usually look this bad unless he’s had more than a  _ bit  _ of whiskey.” Castiel frowned between Sam and his brother before turning to call, “it is your  birthday!” down the hall as the bathroom door opened and Dean blinked owlishly towards them, hair slicked and still wet from his quick shower. 

 

“Told you,” Sam  _ hmmmed _ and nodded to Castiel, “they  _ finished _ a bottle. Don’t know how late the two of them stayed up drinking after I’d gone to bed.”

 

With a worried sort of frown, his younger brother looked to Nick, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder where he sat at the table.  “Everything ok? You don’t usually…”

 

“ ‘m fine. We just played some cards and went to bed.” He couldn’t look his brother straight in the eye and lie by saying that him and Dean hadn’t fought- but that’s not exactly what was being asked, so he redirected that concern away from himself as best as he could. “Think I actually lost you last night during one of the hands. Sorry.”

 

“You…  _ lost _ me?”

 

“Yeah.” Nick smiled apologetically, “I bet you on a full house, sevens over twos, and I lost. You’re Dean’s brother now.”

 

“I... don’t think that it works like that.” Cassy frowned and looked towards Dean with a confused expression. “Will I need to sign adoption paperwork to make it official?”

 

“Adoption?” Dean smiled with an unexpected amount of warmth. “Nah. I think adoption only goes if I was going to be your new dad… unless you wanted to start calling me daddy.” That warmth taking an odd tone, “because I could be into it.”

 

Cassy just gave him an odd look before finding a knife to cut the pie. “My father lives in Florida. Seeing as he wasn’t fool enough to bet me in a poker game, I don’t think that he’d appreciate suddenly being replaced.”

 

It was nice that he shut the other man down so firmly, it saved Nick from having to summon up enough brain power to tell Dean to back down. Harmless joking around aside, there must have been boundries that needed to be established between the two. But that was none of Nick’s business, he reminded himself. None of his business at all. Cassy could handle things on his own. 

 

Even still, slightly hung over, caught off guard by someone making strange comments to his brother, and half asleep, Nick was fairly distracted when Sam walked past behind him. Nick leaned into the other man, slipping an arm around his waist like he usually would- and was greeted by a sharp shove and a warning look from Sam.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, but honestly didn’t think that anyone had noticed the forbidden touch. Cassy was too busy cutting pie, and Dean too busy getting excited about pie to notice anything else was going on in the room. “ ‘s fine.”

 

Sam wasn’t comforted though, and he moved around the table to sit as far from Nick as possible. 

 

And if that’s how it was going to be for the next week, Nick wanted no part in it. A thought that wasn’t new to him. He’d disliked this whole lying to Dean thing a year ago when it’d started. Back then Sam had been stressed from school and didn’t want to tell his brother he was into men- but that point really felt moot when all things else were considered. Namely, the fact that Dean  _ already knew _ about it.

 

A slice of delicious smelling birthday pie was passed to him, and he nodded a thank you as he debated if he was dumb enough to speak up. As tempting as it was to just confess his unending love for the man, he also knew that Sam wouldn’t take such confessions so well this early in the morning and with witnesses.

 

Breakfast was eaten in companionable silence, Sam being the first to break it as he looked to his brother, “what do you want to do today?”

 

“Go back to sleep for a few hours?” Was Dean’s first offer of business. “Maybe have steak tonight. Maybe Nick can invite over his boyfriend...”

 

Sam sort of froze with his fork halfway to his mouth, doing a great job at looking anything but innocent. “He told you about his boyfriend?”

 

“Well yeah. It came up after you passed out, you light weight. And seeing as after last night’s game I sort of own everyone at this table- I’d like to meet my eventual brother in law.”

 

Sam looked more stunned, if that were somehow possible, and Castiel looked delightedly surprised. “I didn’t know that things were getting that serious.” His very bright eyes turned to Nick with an encouraging, “congratulations?”

 

Nick blinked his way through the overwhelming stricken feeling and spoke up, “we’re not getting married,” before the misconception went any further.

 

“But you  _ looove  _ him,” Dean sang in the most annoying way possible, proving what didn’t need proving, that he was very good at being a very bad older brother. “Said so yourself just last night. So bring the bastard over. I’d like to meet him. Like to spoil the surprise since you apparently haven’t gotten around to pouring your little heart out to him yet, you coward.”

 

This was not how Nick had wanted Sam to find out, and to be honest, he wasn’t brave enough to even look at the man who was the unknown target of Dean’s teasing. “Yeah, no. That’s not going to happen.” He said evenly and carefully. “But I’ll let you take Sam out to dinner tonight if you want.”

 

“You’ll  _ let  _ me?” Dean grinned. “Dude, I own each and every one of you. A big happy family, and I get to hand pick my birthday company.”

 

“Along those lines,” Nick pointed with his fork at the irritating birthday-boy. “I want a rematch, with a non biased card dealer. I’m going to win my damn self back, because hell no.”

 

With such an air of disappointment, Castiel brought a pot of coffee to the table. “Nick, did you lose  _ both  _ of us last night?”

 

Not something he was proud to admit but, “I thought I had a good hand.”

 

“If you knew that he was cheating, and you knew that he’d already won everything else- why on earth would you be stupid enough to bet yourself?” Castiel asked the logical questions. He would have been great to have around last night to keep the stupidity at bay.

 

“Aside from me being slightly drunk and making bad choices, I really just assumed that the threat of being stuck with me would work as a deterrent.” 

 

“See now,” Dean was apparently having a great morning, inevitable hangover aside, because he had nothing but smiles for everyone, “that only works if I  _ don’t  _ want you.” Which was followed by a less than subtle wink.

 

And Nick debated if Cassy would be mad at him for throwing the pie that he’d spent the morning making. If nothing else he could ease the suspiciously odd look that Sam was giving him by simply explaining that last night Dean had made an attempt at some slightly tipsy fooling around- but he had a feeling that that would only start some kind of argument with no possible good end.  

 

“Tonight, Sammy, it’s good food, strippers, and booze.” Dean declared. “And your weirdo friends are invited to come too.”

 

Shaking off the obvious question that had formed in response to that winking and flirting, Sam looked around the table, “these weirdos here?”

 

“Who else? You picked yourself some damn good weirdos and I approve, Sammy.” Dean’s complement was a little lacking, but seemed very heartfelt.

 

True to form though, Cassy looked nothing other than slightly charmed. “It is very kind of you to invite us to share your birthday.” Seemingly satisfied that he’d distributed enough pie and coffee to everyone, he finally sat down to eat as well. “I’ve… never seen strippers before.”

 

“Dinner, sure. Drinks, if you like... but you don’t want to go see tits and ass anymore than I do.” Nick very calmly urged Cassy.  “You just don’t.”

 

“Dude,” oddly enough, Dean was the one to come to Castiel’s defence. “You’re his big brother, not his mom. If he wants to come and see some skin then hell yeah he can come and see some skin.”

 

“Look, I’m just trying to do all of you a favor.” Already very tired of this conversation he looked back to his wide eyed brother. “You remember that time that Gabe brought those two girls with him to New Years?”

 

A small frown was followed by some jerky nodding and Castiel used the edge of his fork to separate the crust from the baked fruit on this plate. “The... prostitutes?”

 

“They were strippers, honey. Not hookers. And they made you very uncomfortable.”

 

Uncomfortable then (when he’d only been sixteen), and equally uncomfortable now at just the memory. “Well, I was worried they were going to catch a cold. It was snowing outside.”

 

“You tried to give them your sweater.”

 

“I was worried.”

 

“They thought you were cute and hugged you- and you freaked out.”

 

“The blonde one put her breasts on my shoulder.”

 

Dean made a strange noise into his coffee. “How-”

 

“She had tall shoes and I had not yet hit my growth spurt.” Castiel wrinkled his nose before looking back to Nick. “Are you  _ sure  _ they were strippers?”

 

“You went to bed early.  Missed the part when the actual stripping happened- but trust me, they got very naked.”

 

Pie finished and coffee ignored, Dean leaned his elbows on the table and looked so very intently at Castiel. “You went to bed early on New Years?” 

 

“I was tired, so I went to sleep. Apparently I missed my brother’s lady friends taking their clothes off.”

 

“You want to get caught up tonight, Cas?” Such an offer came from Dean. “I can teach you how to slip a single into a g-string.”

 

“I don’t know what those words mean.”

 

“Oh, I’m going to learn you what it means.” Dean showed too much teeth. “You’ll have a blast.”

 

“Well… it is your birthday. Though naked women do not sound like something that I will necessarily enjoy, I will go with you. It will be an interesting experience to look forward to.” Castiel stood and took Nick by the shoulders. “Come on, we need to go open the shop.”

 

Yes. 

 

Yes they did. 

 

Following his Castiel down the stairs, Nick tried to get through to his brother. “Naked women.  _ Naked _ . You don’t like girls, much less ones without their clothes.”

 

“They will have clothes.” Cassy said with some overly confident authority that he simply didn’t have. “They are strippers. That means that they have to have clothes on to take off. There is a certain logic in it.

 

“You think?” 

 

And the sarcasm was wasted on someone like Castiel. “Like I said, it will be an interesting experience.”

 

“Two gay guys and an asexual weirdo have no place in a titty bar. Even for a friend’s birthday.”

 

Castiel had his shop keys in hand as he turned to look up at Nick. “Do you think that Sam will ever come out to his family?”

 

Shrugging, he couldn’t really come up with an answer.

 

“Nick, you were always open about your sexuality, from a very young age. I think that you did it mostly to upset our father- but I always respected your honesty.” Cas unlocked the door, flicking on lights and taking out  his apron. “It’s not healthy to keep secrets like that from people that you care about, and I worry what will happen between them.”

 

Nick couldn’t argue. As the oldest brother he’d always thought that he’d been a bit lacking when it came to serving as any kind of proper role model- it was sort of reassuring to hear that he hadn’t completely messed it up. With a lightness in his step, he went to go unlock the front doors and switch the sign over to ‘open’.

 

“Did you end up having sex last night with Dean?” Came a rather unexpected question from behind him.

 

He flipped the sign a bit harder than needed before turning around to yell towards the kitchen, “of course I didn’t.” 

 

“Because you’re dating Sam, or because you don’t find Dean attractive?” 

 

“Do I have to pick?” He wasn’t ready for this conversation, but it was somehow easier than the one upstairs. “Why can’t it be because both?”

 

Cassy’s head peeked out through the kitchen door. “I think he’s very attractive.”

 

Which was a strange thing to hear from your brother, and all Nick could do was point out the obvious. “Cassy ... you have the sex drive of a library card catalog.”

 

“I’m going to use a metaphor now-” Castiel warned, “so please follow along. Nick, just because I do not plan to order a steak at a restaurant doesn’t mean that I can’t look at that page in the menu.”

 

A headache started coming on and Nick didn’t even know where to start with this one. “Are you saying he’s... like beef to you?” Because his baby brother was one of the most strict, and at the same time worst vegetarians that ever was- who’d always made strange exceptions for cheese burgers despite whatever moral implications they held. 

 

“I’m saying that he has a very symmetrical face and a warm smile. There is a roughness to him that Sam doesn’t share.  And also, he makes you angry... I thought that you liked that in other men.”

 

“ ‘m very in love with Sam. And even if I’d never met him, I still wouldn’t want to screw Dean. We’d never be able to figure out who was going to be on top- and can we not talk about this and instead get the food in the pastry case?”

 

“Have you really not told Sam that you love him?”

 

“Oh my god. Cassy. Please. Food. The pastry case. Help me.”

 

“That falls into one of those, ‘you shouldn’t keep secrets from someone you care about’ things.” Castiel chided him. “Especially not someone you plan to marry. I’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear about your deep feelings for him. He probably feels the same way.”

 

“We’re not getting married.”

 

“Not  _ ever _ ?” For some reason this idea made Cassy look… sad.

 

“I didn’t say that. I said- you know what? No. Me and him are already doing this dumb song and dance for his jack ass of a brother, where we pretend we’re not a  _ thing _ . And I hate it. So, until he gets to the point that I’m allowed to touch his ass while his brother’s in the room- then I’m not using any stupid words like ‘love’ around him. And I’m sure as hell not making wedding plans, because it would be a fucking waste of breath. But right now I just want to get things together for the customers that are bound to start coming in at some point. Ok?”

 

“You’re very sensitive today.” Castiel shuffled to the large industrial fridge and started taking out food and passing it to Nick to rearrange in the front of the shop. 

 

“Yeah, well, I can’t always be Miss Molly Sunshine.”

 

“You are rarely ever even Mister Nick Nice Weather.” Castiel kept handing over cakes and pastries. “Perhaps if you’d had sex last night you’d be in a better mood.”

 

Nick stopped lining up cookies and slowly turned to look at his brother. “You want to run that one by me again?”

 

“Oh. Not with Dean,” Cassy clarified with a roll of his eyes. “There’s just a very noticeable difference in your moods when you and Sam have been recently intimate.”

 

“... wow.... Just wow.” There wasn’t much else to say to that. “Thanks for the heads up?”

 

“You’re welcome,” with an easy smile Castiel closed the fridge. “And you’ve got a customer coming in the door.”

 

And it was either stand there and stare at his brother, who was possibly a space alien, or go help the nice lady who’d just come in from the cold and was looking for a dozen cupcakes. It was an easy choice to make.

 

.:.

 

The choice to not take his baby brother to a strip club was also an easy choice, however it was not Nick’s to make. He took comfort in the fact that Dean obviously had some intense regrets about the whole thing by the time they made it from the club to Nick’s apartment.

 

“Dude,” the elder Winchester just couldn’t seem to get over it, “you made a stripper cry.”

 

“That was not my intention.” Castiel apologised for what felt like the hundredth time.

 

“He only made one of them cry,” Nick butted in with a very ‘ _ I told you so _ ’ tone. “The other one he talked into quitting her job and going back to school.”

 

Holding the door open for everyone else, Castiel hung his head. “I said I was sorry.”

 

As gentle as if the guilty man were his own baby brother, Dean took him by the shoulders and lightly  shook him. “When’s the mothership coming back for ya’, Cas?”

 

Sam cut in, nudging his brother towards the open door, “give him a break. All things considered, it could have been a lot worse.”

 

“Nothing’s worse, or sadder, than a crying stripper, Sammy.” Dean leaned close to Castiel, not at all forgetting the target of his lecture. “Nothin’.”

 

Though he inwardly cringed at the touch, Nick grabbed Dean by the back of the neck, the man’s skin cold from the winter wind that they’d all walked through to get up here. “You don’t get to manhandle my brother.”

 

Dean caught his eye in a sideways kind of glance, edge of his tongue sliding along the line of his teeth. “Not for nothing, Nick. But, last time someone grabbed me like that... I got laid.” 

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Maybe later, once we’ve put the kiddos to bed.” It was teasing- just the sort of joking that all of them had been doing during dinner, and at the club, until things had gone south. It wasn’t welcome though, and Nick’s patience was wearing thin.

 

“See now, the problems with that suggestion are… wow. Let’s see,  ” Nick used his grip on the Dean to give him a light shove sideways- towards the door jam and away from Cassy. “First, you’re not my type, pretty boy.  Second, I hate you and your fucking smug smile. And how about, my boyfriend’s ass is so much better than yours? And you cheat at cards?”

 

Letting go of Cas, Dean smoothing his hands over the startled looking man’s shoulders before looking behind himself awkwardly. “ _ Better _ ? I find that hard to believe. You obviously didn’t take a good enough look.”

 

“Can we please just  _ not _ .” Sam pleaded with them. “He already hates you, don’t antagonise him.”

 

“Hates me?” Dean remained undaunted, walking with an easy swagger into the apartment and going for the booze in the kitchen that he’d made Sam buy for them that afternoon. “That’s not the impression I was getting last night when he couldn’t keep his hands off me.”

 

And it was stunning just how easy it was to get under Nick’s skin. Bristling instantly, “I was trying to get my damn phone back- don’t make it weird.”

 

Such a grin did Dean wear (and in his defence, he’d already had a few back at the club and was nearly three sheets to the wind at this point), as he brought shot glasses and whiskey to the table. “You don’t want it getting back to your boyfriend that you were pawing at me in the kitchen, is that it?”

 

And there was no way in hell that Nick was going to get in trouble for that. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me-”

 

“Wow, hold on there a second, Romeo. We were both a little more than a little drunk, so you’re probably remembering things wrong.” Dean cut him off so smoothly, pulling out his deck of cards. “And seeing as I’m straight and your not, I’m feeling more like believing things went how I remember them going.”

 

Turning to Sam, and giving him the most earnest look that he could muster under the circumstances, Nick said in no uncertain terms, “I did  _ not _ .”

 

“Don’t go trying to convince him. He doesn’t care.” Dean waved it all off and sat down, looking like he honestly just assumed that everyone else would be joining him the same as they had the night before. “Besides, he won’t tell your boyfriend about it. Will ya’, Sammy?”

 

A tight lipped expression that didn’t own a name graced Sam’s face and he didn’t seem to have anything to say to either of them.

 

“Everyone, sit your asses down. Nick wanted a rematch, and Cas deserves a right to try and win himself back.” Dean was already shuffling the cards, “Winner gets what winner wants, losers take shots.”

 

Castiel was the first one to seem willing to take up that offer, sitting down and taking the cards from Dean’s hands in a fluid movement. “I don’t cheat, so I will hold the cards this time- to make it more fair.”

 

It would even out the odds, and Nick was willing to make a go at it, if only so that he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone holding last night’s loses against him. So he sat, as far from Dean as possible at the small square table, and took the cards that his brother dealt to him.

 

“I don’t really drink,” Cassy kept talking as he so carefully counted out cards, placing five in front of the empty chair that Sam should be sitting in. “So Nick can take my shots for me, seeing as the only reason I am playing is because I need to try and win myself back. No offence, Dean. I’m sure that you are a lovely brother, but I don’t want to have to change my last name.” 

 

“Still think you’re getting addoption confused with siblings, but yeah. Ok.” Dean was happy enough to go along with the deal- but Dean was a fairly happy drunk and agreeable to most things it seemed.

 

Reluctantly, Sam sat beside Nick with a sideways sort of look that said that he still hadn’t made up his mind about things just yet. Looking for all the world like he wanted to be mad, but wasn't sure who to direct it at. 

 

“We’ve got work in the morning,” Nick reminded his brother while doing his best not to turn to Sam and make a fool of himself. “All of us except for the lying bastard next to you- so we’re not doing shots all night.”

 

“I will do my best not to lose too much then,” his brother promised. 

 

Not a promise he could keep with any skill aside from luck and the night progressed badly. Even as a sloppy drunk, and with a non partisan dealer, it turned out that Dean was frightfully skilled at cards. It was a good thing that Sam was better.

 

Bleary eyed, and only remotely connected to his limbs, Nick became aware of the notion that it was more than a probability that the losses from the night before had been very willing on Sam’s part, as something sort of like a pre-birthday present to his big brother. He showed no such mercy this time around though, and not a single drop of single malt passed his lips. The only thing he asked for as his winnings was for the rest of them to stop arguing- until the request turned into ‘now go to bed and everyone shut up about owning each other’. Seeing as he’d won every damn hand, it would have felt disrespectful to tell him no. 

 

Cassy wore a simple smile, pleased that he was once again an autonomous entity that wouldn’t be traded and bartered like an IOU. “Will we see you tomorrow, Sam?”

 

“I can come in for a couple hours in the morning,” he decided as he collected up all the cards into a tidy little pile. “Seeing as Nick’s going to be too hungover to be much help to you.”

 

“ ’m fine,” Nick tried to defend himself, as any self respecting drunk would do.

 

“Dude, y’ure so drunk there are two of ya.”Dean snickered into a shot glass while wearing a crooked grin.

 

“ _ You’re _ so drunk there’s two of me.” He countered.

 

And leaving no room for argument, Sam turned to the two of them with a sharp, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll both shut up,” before looking back to Castiel with a smile. “Get home safe. I’ll see you when the shop opens at seven.”

 

“That’s very kind of you, Sam. I’d be happy for the help.” Polite as ever, even in the face of two surly drunks and a sore winner, Cassy let himself out.

 

Dean clapped his hands together, looking oddly eager. “So now that we got rid of the wet blanket, we can-”

 

“Did he try to kiss you?” Sam interrupted, the dark look on his face eating through the drunk of the other two men in a dangerous sort of way. 

 

“Cas?” Dean sputtered. “The hell, man? No. He’s as harmless an as weird as… as a hairless kitten. I’m not sure he even knows what kissing is.”

 

“ _ Nick _ ,” came the humorless clarification. “Did Nick really try to kiss you last night?”

 

“You gunna tattle on him ta’his boyfriend if he did?”

 

“Don’t you try to drag me down with you, you screwy bastard.” Nick rolled his own empty shot glass towards Dean in a way that he hoped came off as menacing, before looking to Sam and insisting, “I didn’t try anything.”

 

“Untwist those panties of yours, Sammy.” Dean was rolling his eyes, obviously not as phased by the whole situation as he should be. “I asked if he wanned to, an he told me to fuck off. I was just givin’ him a hard time ‘bout it today.”

 

What should have been Nick’s pardon, a clean alibi, only made Sam looked troubled. “ _ Why _ ?”

 

“Cause he ruffles his feathers so easy.”

 

Rubbing his eyes, Sam took a deep breath. “You propositioned him because you like to ‘ruffle his feathers’?”

 

“No,” Dean made a face. “Don’t ask stupid questions if y’ure not gunna listen to the answer. I tease him ‘cause it rubs him wrong. I asked if he wanned to fool around ‘cause he looks good for somethin’ rough and quick.”

 

Which was sometimes sort of true, but Nick was not about to bring attention to himself because he’d never seen his boyfriend with that look on his face before. 

 

After a few false starts, Sam eventually settled on a borderline angry sounding, “I don’t even know how to process that.”

 

Dean knew though, his drunken slurring spelling it out so simply. “What ‘ _ process _ ’, college boy? Sumtimes guys like to fuck aroun’ with other guys. Deal with it.”

 

“You’re straight,”

 

“Well, yeah.  _ Mostly _ ,” was Dean’s counter, waving it all off like his sexuality should be the least of anyone’s concerns. “It’s not a big deal, Sammy.” 

 

Just like that. Dean left a rather large window open for his brother to come clean about the same sorts of things- but Sam didn’t. Instead he put his hands in the air and stood, shaking his head. “You’re my brother. I love you, and I’m going to bed. You two should do the same- in separate beds.” he added, as if that part needed clarification. 

 

“Dude, he said  _ no _ .” Dean pulled a face. “No means no. I’ma son of a bitch, but I’ma respectful  son of a bitch.” Which was some healthy, introspective, self analysis bull shit- that may or may not have been true. 

 

Either way, he was allowed to get away with it. Stumbling from the table towards the couch that was his bed, with sleepy demands to be wished a final ‘happy birthday’.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam grumbled. “Happy birthday, jerk.”

 

“ _ Bitch _ ,” Dean chirped back before throwing himself down onto the couch with a grin. “Do I get to come back next year and we can do it again?”

 

“If we keep letting Cas into strip clubs there won't be enough girls left working to keep the places open.” Was Sam’s reasoning. 

 

“We’ll do somethin’ more tame next time.” 

 

A silence grew where one shouldn’t have been, as they waited for Sam to come up with some kind of reply. Eventually a small smile crept over him, though it looked strained. “I’m open to suggestions... as long as that something doesn’t involve you trying to get into my boyfriend’s pants again,”

 

An answering smile settled over Dean. So slow and uncertain as pieces floated together through his drunken mind, before he chuckled and folded his hands over his stomach. “Hey, his pants are your business, Sammy. Not mine.”

 

The brothers looked at eachother, long and steady- and never before in his life had Nick felt so out of place in his own home.  He didn’t belong here during a moment like this. Even if it sort of almost involved him, it was a bit too private and personal.

 

Sam looked at his feet and his hands and sort of shuffled before breaking the silence, demanding, “and that’s all you have to say?”

 

That easy laugh came back. “What d’ya want? We’ve all known you liked boys since you were eleven. ‘s not all as shocking as you wan’it to be.” 

 

“Since I was  _ eleven _ ?”

 

“Yeah- hey, I lost enough hands a’poker to drink maybe a fifth uh whiskey. C’n we get int’a this tomorrow instead?”

 

“Or just not at all,” surprisingly Sam seemed eager to let it go. “And you can just keep your hands off my Nick.”

 

“I like ‘not at all’.” Dean tugged a blanket down off the back of the couch and looked like he planned to sleep with his boots still on.  “An I know you don’t care what I think-” He nodded to where Nick still sat uncomfortably at the table, “but he’s got my ok, f’r whatever that’s worth.”

 

“...yeah?” There was such a strange hesitancy to Sam, like he really, really didn’t want to care what his brother thought about all this, but at the same time it meant the world to him.

 

“Don’t get mushy on me,” Dean wrinkled his nose. “You got yourself a boyfriend. That means you're his problem now.”

 

A small smile flexed at the edges of Sam’s mouth as he glanced towards the table.

 

“An Nick- you haven’t told him you love him yet?” Dean raised an uneven eyebrow. “Fuck that. Step up your game. You don’t get ta’half-ass date my brother. Full-ass or not at all.” His slightly glassy eyes closed for a moment, the alcohol and reclining position taking a bit of wind from his sails. “Now g’night, you weirdos. I’m beat.”

 

Sam nodded. First to Dean, then to Nick, though that second one had a strange weight to it. He started down the hall towards the bedrooms, kind of lingering like he was waiting for something.

 

Whiskey was the reason it took Nick so long to realise that  _ he _ was the thing that Sam was waiting for. He made a point to double check that the front door was locked and the lights were turned off before dragging his feet towards the dim outline of the hallway. 

 

His hands settled so easily along Sam’s hips, and before he could get a proper hold on the man, Sam was tugging him towards the spare bedroom- a good sign. And even in the dark, with as close as they were while they moved together, Nick could feel the fine tremor of unease between them. 

 

“You gunna be mad if I tell you how brave you were?”

 

“That’s not what I want to hear right now.” Sam whispered right before his forehead collided with Nick’s. They stopped walking and just stood somewhere in the middle of the bedroom room, breaths mixing and all sorts of tension thrumming through Sam. 

 

It didn’t matter that they’d known each other for nearly two years. Nick was crap at these kinds of things. Never really knew what to do. He wasn’t a gentle, or sensitive kind of guy- but still he could tell that the man he cared about was pretty badly shaken, despite how hard he was trying to keep it together. 

 

“He didn’t yell at me,” Sam said in a confused sort of way. “I thought for sure that he’d yell at me.”

 

Nick let possible answers roll around in his mind before letting one tumble off his tongue. “He loves you. That pretty much trumps everything else for him.”

 

Something between a laugh and a sigh ghosted over Nick’s face- but otherwise Sam didn’t seem to have much of an answer.

 

“I love you,” he tried next, hoping that the words might be better received. 

 

Sam smiled against his lips as he pulled Nick closer, so warm and welcoming as the tension eased from him.

 

Kisses were traded with that easy sort of familiarity that they’d built between them over the past few months. Unhurried touches until they were just leaning against one another and smiling between breaths. 

 

“I should have told you months ago.” Nick apologised.

 

“You should have told me when you weren't drunk,” was Sam’s easy correction. 

 

“It still counts,”

 

“It sure as hell doesn’t,” followed by more soft kisses. “But I love you too, you jerk.”

 

Nick chuckled, because despite the fact that he’d heard the words before, whispered by other people, they’d never sounded half as good.


End file.
